


Tumblr Ficlets

by kissingandcrying



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Belting, Caning, Chair Sex, Cock Warming, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Dry Humping, F/M, Finger Sucking, Humiliation, Kneeling, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Non-Penetrative Sex, Praise Kink, Remote Control Vibrator, Reward, Semi-Public Sex, Sensation Play, Size Kink, Spanking, Subspace, safe wording
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 28,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissingandcrying/pseuds/kissingandcrying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a place to keep my tumblr prompts and fills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> So I realize this everytime something sheisty happens with tumblr - but there are no backup copies of my ficlets! I wanted somewhere to keep them, but I also wanted to give everyone who doesn't have the opportunity access to them in case I finish any of these verses here on A03 (I'm looking at you, Preggsy). So enjoy them if you haven't read them, if you have, I'm sorry to be bombarding you with them. Relevant tags are at the top of each ficlet. ^-^v

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> third party aftercare

“Once more, Eggsy. I really am failing to understand you.”

Eggsy has repeated this three times. It’s not coming out right because he can’t focus.

Rather than repeat it for a fourth time, Eggsy says, “Nothing, Harry” and leaves the room. Since he doesn’t have an office yet, he runs off to see if he can find Merlin so that he can ask to be excused for the day. His head hurts something vicious and he can’t decide if he wants to cry or sleep - both might be nice, but he certainly can’t do them at work.

Merlin is holed up in his office sipping on a cup of warm water when Eggsy throws open his door. The first thing Merlin says is, “Harry still hasn’t taught you to knock, I see.”

It’s likely not that Merlin is disappointed, just reminding Eggsy that it’s pertinent to learn how to knock before he lets himself into someone else’s space. Right. So why can’t Eggsy remember that simple lesson? It’s such a small thing to do and he just can’t remember to do it.

He feels so put out that he can’t remember why he’s even come to Merlin’s office.

“I -” He starts, but he doesn’t know where to go after that. Merlin swivels around to face him curiously. “Oh, _fuck it_.” Eggsy says clearly and then he leaves Merlin’s office, too, because he just doesn’t even have the energy to explain why he needs to go home and he knows that Merlin’ll ask.

Harry is there leaning against the wall with one foot crossed over the other. Eggsy startles when he hears his name because he’d literally just left the man’s office, had even only made one pitstop that lasted a whole thirty seconds, and now Harry is just dawdling outside of Merlin’s office to say, “I’ll thank you to not run off before finishing the conversation you started. Tell me what it is you wanted to say.”

Eggsy can’t take anyone else controlling him right now. He’s spent a whole week playing with the idea and that’s what’s gotten him in this mess in the first place. “Please,” He says. “I just wanna sleep.”

Harry considers him nervously and says, “Are you alright, Eggsy?”

“No.” Eggsy says. “I can’t think straight. I’m exhausted. I feel like everything’s gone off and I can’t get it back on. I - I just need to sleep, yeah?”

There’s a dull silence that stretches out into the hall. Everyone else is either cooped up in their office or otherwise home because Eggsy hasn’t seen anyone but Harry in the hallway since before sunrise. It’s a shame he’s been up long enough to recognize that.

“Let’s walk together and talk it out.” Harry suggests. “Perhaps another set of ears is what you need. We can find out what’s going on.”

“I don’t have the energy.” Eggsy sighs. He steps forward and Harry opens his arms automatically. Eggsy takes the invitation and presses up closely against Harry’s chest, breathing deeply to take in the scent. He smells a bit like patchouli. Leave it to Harry Hart to be a closeted Hippie (then again he did just come off a case that involved a lot of incense). It’s relaxing and clearly a step in the right direction because for a second he forgets that he’s losing his mind. “I’m sorry,” He slurs. “Can I do this? Just for a minute.”

“You’re perfectly alright.” Harry tells him.

Eggsy has never hugged Harry before. Not intentionally, anyway. He’s been in positions where he couldn’t carry his weight and so Harry carried it for him, and he’s also been in positions where he’s had to press himself up against Harry to preserve space in close quarters - but he’s never wound his arms under Harry’s and wrapped them around his back. He’s never pressed his nose into the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder and sighed.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. Harry shushes him.

“Take all the time you need.”

The time trickles by. Eggsy becomes so comfortable that he begins to rock back and forth, smiling into Harry’s neck like a goon as they rock together. This is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done.

“I don’t mean to pry Eggsy and, by all means, don’t feel obligated to answer this,” Harry says quietly. There’s a pause before he continues “but Merlin and I have noticed lately that you’ve had some… bruises.”

Eggsy cringes and goes three shades lighter. It’s a good thing his face is pressed so tightly against Harry’s skin. “Oh, god.”

“We merely want to know if they’re intentional.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy says sheepishly. “They’re completely, _completely_ intentional. Well, I mean - you know, as intentional as… as they can be.”

Harry hums and Eggsy steps back, slipping out of his arms. He’d forgotten about the bruises, and there’s a centimetre where his cufflinks keep rising and showing off the purpling that’s beginning to fade into yellowing and healing contusions. He clears his throats and adjusts the fabric of his suit so that they aren’t visible. It’d only been a few days now and he hadn’t wanted Merlin or Harry to know about it honestly. He’s got weeks to go before they’ve completely disappeared.

“You’re not to worry,” Harry says. “Merlin’s seen much worse. An old Lancelot couldn’t hide the bruises around his throat for trying. Honestly, it looked like he’d gone to war with a bloody set of octopuses. Merlin had forced him to wear a Mandarin suit with an extended collar.”

Eggsy snorts and looks down at his feet. “It’s not a thing, yeah? Just a one-off.”

“You mean the bruising.”

“The entire fuckin’ thing,” Eggsy hisses. “I might as well ‘ave invited Dean over for all that prick did for me - ah, _fuck_ , sorry.”

Eggsy knows that Harry would prefer he not mention Dean, but Eggsy hasn’t got another comparison. He actually should’ve shut his mouth about three responses back because mentioning the bruises is kind of like verbally acknowledging that his first foray into the curious world of submission had been a _right_ fucking mess.

“How long have you been feeling under the weather?” Harry asks suddenly.

“I’m not under the weather,” Eggsy says shortly. “I’m fuckin’ tired, Harry.”

“I’ve seen a tired Eggsy.” Harry reminds him patiently. “And I’ve seen an irate Eggsy. I’ve seen an anxious Eggsy, and I’ve seen a confused Eggsy. This is somehow all of the above.”

There’s another lapse in conversation. Eggsy peeks up at Harry to see what he’s thinking. He’d like so badly to hug him again, but he keeps his body to himself because he’s made it weird enough as it is. He keeps losing his temper. At this point, he’d appreciate a ride home so that he can sleep off his funk and laugh about it with Roxy in the morning.

“You think Merlin’ll let me leave?”

“He’s never stopped you.” Harry tells him.

“God I feel like shit,” Eggsy moans, doubling over and putting his hands on his knees. He feels like tearing his hair out because it keeps coming in waves. It’s a constant reminder at the back of his mind, that he’s doing something wrong. That he shouldn’t have ever been in that position in the first place. That everything he does is shit and he’s only a Kingsman on a technicality, Harry only likes him because he’s a protege, and he’s ass at essentially everything. “Harry, I’ve really gone and fuckin’ done it.”

Harry reaches out and tugs Eggsy back to standing. He winds an arm around his waist and says, “We’ll go home together. Mine is closer if you’d like to sleep it off, but I’d like to be there with you. I can’t imagine sending you off on your own in a state like this, especially when I know Merlin’s gone and given you free reign of the weapons cache.”

Harry takes care of Merlin. He peeks his head in and tells him _very_ succinctly that they’re leaving together and will be back at an undetermined time. Merlin tells them that it’s almost a holiday weekend anyway. He’ll forward all of their missions to Lamorak and Percival who prefer to take their missions together and who would be more then happy to ‘get out of the house’.

Harry then carries Eggsy (on his back because Eggsy’s a spoiled little tart who’d rather start to doze off on the walk to the car then actually put in effort getting there) until they’re seated comfortably in a small taxi. They go to Harry’s house together.

They’re barely in the door before Harry says, “I’ll put the kettle on. Shoes off and up to bed with you.”

Eggsy doesn’t question it. He slips off his Oxfords at the door. He’d also like to step out of his suit since it’s a bit more restrictive than a pair of pyjamas would be, but he leaves it alone and starts the slow ascent up the stairs. It takes him so long to get up there that Harry is behind him only mid way up, nudging him in the back.

“I thought you were putting the kettle on.”

“I’ve already done it. Just had to turn it on. Up you get.” Harry says.

Eggsy is ushered into Harry’s bedroom only to hesitate firmly in the doorway. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Is this alright? I mean - can I sleep in here?”

“That is quite the point, yes.” Harry clarifies.

“You have some comfy jim-jams?” Eggsy asks, smiling.

“My lord, you do have a lot of requests.” Harry laughs. “On the bed. I’ll grab them for you.”

Eggsy considers undressing himself first, but Harry hadn’t mentioned it and he isn’t in the mood so he bounces back to the middle of the mattress and lays on his back. He can hear Harry rummaging around in another part of the room. There’s the sound of opening and closing drawers, then the creaking of a door being pulled open, and then the sound of running water. The sound of the water is nice. He loses himself in it, imagining that Merlin’s finally gotten his head out of his ass and sent him somewhere nice like Bora Bora.

He doesn’t hear Harry come back in and he’s halfway to the unconscious when he feels a set of fingers pulling at his buttons. He jumps awake and pushes the hands roughly off of him before remembering that he’s at Harry’s house.

“Oh, Jesus Harry. You almost gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.”

“I’m sorry. I hope this isn’t untoward.”

“No, no.” Eggsy assures him. “It’s fine. I was just… I was fallin’ asleep.”

“I can see that. We’ll get you settled in here if I could just get you out of these clothes and wipe you down for bed.”

“Are you gonna stay with me? I mean, you’re not gonna, like, sleep in the chair or nothing.”

“I’ll be right here if that’s what you want.”

Eggsy sits up to find Harry kneeling comfortably on the floor between his knees. “Can we cuddle? Just friendly like.”

Harry goes uncharacteristically quiet. He continues to undress Eggsy leisurely but he’s thinking, tongue dancing along his bottom lip as he considers his options. There’s a second of trepidation and Eggsy thinks that he’s overstepped, but then Harry looks up at him with a smile and says, “Gladly.”

From then, Eggsy allows Harry to strip him down to his pants. There are moments where Harry hesitates. There are bruises on Eggsy’s wrist, clavicle and knees. His thighs have scratches that he’d overlooked as welts days before. Harry’s fingers dance over them and even the light pressure is something Eggsy can feel.

“I’m sorry,” Eggsy says quietly.

“You needn’t be.” Harry tells him.

“I didn’t want them.” Eggsy admits. “I mean I did, but - just… the whole fuckin’ thing was wrong.” There’s a shift in his emotional state and he’s suddenly back on the offensive, scolding himself for being a fucking idiot and feeling ill because of it. He does everything wrong - everything. He couldn’t even get sex right, honestly, and that’s the most natural and primitive part of being human. Then again, what can you expect from a guy who can’t even remember to knock on doors before he enters rooms?

Harry lays his hands firmly over Eggsy’s thighs and squeezes. Eggsy is still sitting up, legs spread further as Harry shifts closer in.

“I’ve always loved your thighs,” Harry laughs.

“So Harry Hart likes a thick man.”

Harry looks up at Eggsy and says, “That’s a subjective measurement, but if you’re considered thick then that’s _exactly_ what I like.”

Eggsy shakes his head and flops back down, staring up at Harry’s white ceiling. If you’d have told him this morning that he’d have Harry Hart in a bed tugging off his clothes, he likely wouldn’t have listened. It’s been a long time coming though. They’ve admittedly been dancing around one another for a year.

Harry stands up, bending over the side of the mattress and over the younger man’s body. His arms bracket the sides of Eggsy’s head and he leans down so that Eggsy can touch him. At first it’s the hesitant rub of Eggsy’s fingers against his jaw - and then Eggsy winds both of his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls him the rest of the way down for a kiss.

“I should tell you,” Harry says against his lips. “That this hardly constitutes ‘friendly-like’.”

Eggsy laughs. “But is it alright?”

“Perfectly.”

Eggsy can feel Harry readjust the way he’s standing between Eggsy’s dangling legs, and then Harry presses his hands under Eggsy’s arms and begins to push him up the mattress a bit so that he can kneel comfortably on the bed between Eggsy’s thighs.

“Wait, Harry,” Eggsy slips in quietly. “You’re not gonna burn the house down, right?”

“The kettle has an auto shut-off.” Harry says proudly. “Breville, my dear. We won’t burn.”

“Right.” Eggsy says. When Harry flops down beside him and opens his arms, Eggsy rolls over into them and winds his arms around Harry’s waist. He burrows back into his neck, slipping his legs between Harry’s and getting comfortable. It feels perfect. Harry has a steady heartbeat, his chest is rising and falling comfortably and in a way, Eggsy thinks he must be dozing off since the longer he lays there the slower everything becomes.

Then again, that might just be him losing consciousness and finally getting some much-needed shut eye.


	2. The Next 10 Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caning, subspace, aftercare.

Eggsy knows he’s slipped off. He can feel it.

The next time the cane whips his backside he doesn’t do much more than whine loudly. He doesn’t know if the man behind him can hear it because Eggsy’s got a mouthful of mattress, but he knows that his body is begging for it. His thighs are shaking something awful and he arches his back a little more just so that the cane has more skin to work with.

“I want you to count them,” Harry says.

“Yes, sir.” Eggsy mumbles immediately. The blows stop and then there’s the muted sting of someone pulling his head up off the mattress by his hair.

“Every last fucking one.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Eggsy repeats. He’s not quite sure what number he’s on or how many times he’s already been whacked, but he’ll start over and he’ll count until his throat is raw if he has to.

It’s hard to get his mouth to work. He can hear the cane connecting and he feels something, not necessarily pain but it’s something, and so he starts to count. “One, t-two…t-thr…” his voice cracks and then he can’t speak for a second. The cane stops again and not a second later Eggsy can feel strong hands on his cheeks, kneading them. Maybe it’s too much, or maybe Eggsy just can’t think straight right now and it’s the perfect amount.

“Five more. Do you think you can give me five more?” Harry's voice asks. It's gone so much softer around the edges. 

Of course he can, Eggsy thinks. He can do five more easily. It’s the counting that he can’t seem to accomplish. His mouth is jelly and he’d like to just soak in this feeling of his body rocking back and forth with the force of the cane. He doesn’t really want to count, but this is a punishment and so he will. “I can, yeah. I can,” He says quickly. “Please, I can.”

The last five are slower. He can feel the rattan on his skin and it makes Eggsy feel prickly. He isn’t really focusing on anything. His entire body is wired and Harry is giving him seconds between licks so that he can really process them and the effect they have on his body. Four more. Oh yeah, he’s supposed to be counting out loud. He can’t be knackered to remember where he’d stopped so he goes backwards. The numbers crawl out of his mouth between jerks of his body and they’re quiet, but he’s counting. “Three…two - a-ah…” There’s a tense silence before the last one strikes and Eggsy breathes out, “ _one_ ”.

“That’s it, darling.”

“No,” Eggsy says immediately. He pushes back so that his arse is closer to Harry. “Please, sir, I can do more…”

He feels like he’s completely out of it. He knows he’s in a bedroom, knows there’s a comfortable mattress beneath his knees and that there’s a cold glass of water on the nightstand beside him, but he cares most about the man that’s kissing a line up his spine to the back of his neck.

“My lovely, lovely boy,” he hears next. “You took that beautifully.”

Eggsy sobs loudly and says, “Please, ten more. Just ten more.”

His legs have gone numb from being on his knees too long. His fingers are stiff from clenching the blanket too hard, his mouth tastes like cotton and he can feel the sweat dripping down his forehead, but he feels so good right now. He could do this all night, and so he keeps begging even when he can feel himself being handled onto his back.

“No more for right now, love. You’ve done wonderfully. I want for you to relax for a moment, let your body breathe. You took those so, so well.”

Eggsy wants to argue but that won’t win him any favors (and that’s what got him caned in the first place). Instead he cries out his frustrations a little bit more. Maybe he can rest for a second and then Harry will fuck him, or maybe he’ll get what he wants and Harry’ll hit him some more. He sniffs and then lets himself be moved around by Harry’s strong arms until he’s on his side and Harry is molded against his back.

“Ok, yeah…” Eggsy says quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re absolutely perfect for me Eggsy, do you know that?”

“Mm,” Eggsy hums quietly. His eyes are burning because he’s drowsy and a bit… all over the place, not the mention the crying, and now that he’s settled down his arse is burning, his nose is running nastily but it’s all perfect. Harry will be moving in a minute to tend to him because he’s a thorough man and he won’t leave Eggsy with welts, bruises and broken skin without looking over each one of them carefully. For now he stays with Eggsy.

Harry coddles him until he’s somewhat back to his senses. It takes a long while and a lot of kisses, a few changes of conversation until Eggsy's actually responding, and asking, “How many did I do?”

“With the spanking included, you did well over forty.” Harry tells him proudly. “You’ve gotten so good at it, I’m afraid it’s not much of a punishment anymore.”

 _Forty,_ Eggsy mouths. No, more then that - well over. How many of those were done by the cane he doesn’t care, only that he did well and that he can take whatever Harry will give him. He’s happy to hear that, and Harry is proud of him and that means so much. He smiles to himself and closes his eyes thinking that tomorrow he’ll be to rights, working at Kingsman with a nice set of striped bruises under his suit, and nobody but Harry will be any wiser.


	3. You're Never Fully Dressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inception crossover ficlet

Something isn’t right.

You know, there was never any funeral for Harry Hart. Merlin never disclosed where the body was transported following the massacre at the church, and when Eggsy cornered him a week later to ask him again where Harry had gone he’d apologized firmly and said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to make your peace without a corpse.”

A corpse.

It wasn’t that Eggsy hadn’t thought twice about. He’d long since humored the idea that Harry Hart was still alive and that the limp body he’d seen hit the pavement was for show. It’s just that he hadn’t managed to convince himself that it was true and on some basic level he’d never expected to see Harry again.

Hence, something isn’t right.

“Harry…” Eggsy trails off. “No. You can’t be here.”

Harry is sitting in his office chair, leaned back casually with his hands folded over his abdomen. “Are you alright?”

Eggsy watches Harry closely. Everything else is as it should be. There’s an unopened laptop on the desk, newspaper clippings hanging on the wall with the glaring backdrop of the red paint behind them, blinds closed, lights on. The only thing out of place is Harry.

“Eggsy. What’s wrong?”

“You’re dead.” Eggsy says firmly.

Harry looks down at himself. “I certainly look it, don’t I? Why don’t you take a seat? You seem a bit distressed.”

Eggsy knows he should question it because the entire exchange is slightly off. Harry doesn’t smile, doesn’t gesture, just watches him from his seat with a relaxed air about him. He’s one breath away from stepping towards the seat when there’s an eerie chiming noise.

“ _I-O-D…  E-N-T… Hey Hobo man, Hey Dapper Dan, you’ve both got your style but brother you’re never fully dressed without a smile…_ ”

Harry’s face doesn’t change but Eggsy is almost certain that the music isn’t playing from any particular location. In fact, it’s seemingly going off within his own head and echoing throughout the room entirely.

“What is that?” Eggsy asks stiffly.

Harry doesn’t verbally respond. Instead he pushes himself up out of the chair and begins to move around the desk. It’s not until they’re within inches of each other that Eggsy notices the shiv cradled between his knuckles.

“Harry?” Eggsy croaks, startled and panicked. “Harry, stop!”

He backs up as quickly as he can, tripping on his own feet and stumbling backwards until his back hits the wall. Harry advances more quickly than he can focus and then they’re face to face, Harry nosing against his cheek as he hisses, “why didn’t you _apologize_ , you worthless boy.”

“Stop,” Eggsy pleads. He nudges against Harry’s chest to push him back, but the older man is unmovable. “H-Harry, I’m sorry…” He grunts out. “Please don’t-”

It’s as far as he gets before he feels the sharp heat of the blade pierce his skin. He screams out for Merlin or Roxy knowing that they won’t be able to hear him through the walls, but he needs _somebody_ because he’s just been stabbed in the chest and he’s certainly going to die.

“You were never going to make it.” Harry says simply. “Such failure from a boy with such promise. I can hardly believe I proposed you.”

“No.” Eggsy sighs. “No, Ha…harry, h-help me.”

There likely isn’t a person who doesn’t panic when they’re close to death. A person who isn’t a bit anxious about what happens when it all turns black. Harry is still close enough that Eggsy can count his eyelashes, can see the stray hairs of his eyebrows, the scar beneath his glasses on the left hand side where Valentine had shot him. He can see the despondent look in his eyes because he leans in slowly and presses their foreheads together.

“You’re dead, Harry.” Eggsy whispers. “You’re dead.”

Harry blinks at him. “Perhaps out there,” Harry says slowly. “But in here…”

Eggsy screams when the knife is twisted. He pants out wetly and then there’s nothing.

-

“That was much quicker than anticipated,” Merlin drawls as Eggsy comes to, sputtering and holding his chest where seconds ago (it seemed) there had been a knife. Eggsy scrambles out of his chair, elbows hitting the floor as he loses his footing. Roxy stands up from her bench with a startled look on her face and drops her book to go and help him. It’s when she moves that Merlin realizes that Eggsy is actually losing it.

“Merlin!” Eggsy cries, voiced cracked and gruff. “Merlin, he’s stabbed me! Jesus Christ, Harry’s stabbed me.”

Roxy drops beside Eggsy on the hard floor and pulls him into her lap. He pushes off of her so that he can stand back up but he’s disoriented. “Eggsy! Stop, please. God, Merlin, what’ve you done to him?”

Merlin looks contrite. He climbs up out of his chair and adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps I should’ve been more clear in my explanation. The machine Eggsy has just had the pleasure of experiencing is a portable automated Somnacin intravenous device, often referred to as…”

“A PASIV. _Merlin!_ Oh god…” Roxy sighs.

“You’re familiar?”

Roxy looks down at Eggsy and pushes the hair off of his sweating forehead. He’s listening to Merlin, too, but he’s looking at the buttons of her blazer. It’s clear that he’s trying to collect himself as his hands are shaking minutely and Roxy looks back up at Merlin spitting, “it’s gone and _done_ something to him, Merlin.”

“Had I known he were still - I mean, if I’d known I’d have gone under with him.” Merlin says.

“How can he be alright? Harry was only killed four months ago!”

At Harry’s name, Eggsy flinches and says, “He fuckin’ stabbed me, Rox.”

“No, Eggsy. It was a dream.”

“It was Harry!” Eggsy insists.

“Eggsy, it was a dream.” Merlin says softly. “A very, very Lucid dream. Harry is dead.”

Eggsy's not sure what's going on, but he's certain that no matter the outcome of this situation one thing is true. Whether he's right (which he is) or wrong (which he isn't), one thing is absolutely true. 

“Merlin, you’re a fuckin’ wanker.” Eggsy spits. He pushes himself up out of Roxy’s lap and moves quickly for the exit. Harry’s alive and Harry’s just stabbed him. Fuck Merlin. He almost makes it to the door before he vomits all over himself, losing his footing and falling over sideways. Roxy is off of the floor and running to his side again but he doesn’t quite see how she helps him because he’s out long before she reaches him.


	4. Not My Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> micro-fights and micro-makeups.

It’s a fairly regular day in the Kingsman office all things considered. Merlin and Roxy are holed up together working on a project, Percival is running errands for the company and Harry is passive-aggressively texting Eggsy things that the younger agent is not in any mood to hear. Yes, all in all it’s a fairly regular day for all of them.

It’s not as if Eggsy doesn’t do anything wrong. Eggsy does a lot of things that he should be reprimanded for. No, what causes Eggsy to storm into Harry’s office is that in this particular case, he _isn’t_ wrong, he _hasn’t_ done anything, and Harry _shouldn’t_ be telling him off for it. 

Eggsy pushes the door to Harry’s office open and says, “You’re being a right bitch, did you know that?”

Harry doesn’t even look up from his crossword puzzle. “I see you _still_ haven’t learned to knock.”

Eggsy makes a ghastly noise in the back of his throat. He has so many things he’d like to say but he bites his tongue because if he lets it out, that’ll be another thing that Harry gets on his case about. Instead he stomps over to Harry’s desk and reaches over, covering the puzzle with his hand. “Listen to me, Harry. I didn’t fucking eat your crisps, I didn’t dismiss the cleaning lady and it’s not my fault that I didn’t have the code to the Evans’ security door. _That’s_ on Merlin.”

Harry leans back in his seat and says, “Eggsy, Darling, you admitted to having eaten the crisps -”

“Three of them!” Eggsy clarifies. “Not the whole pack.”

“Alice told me you kicked her out of the house because she showed ‘discriminatory habits’ towards our separate items, and Merlin told me that the code was in the briefing packet and that your near-death experience could have been completely avoided if you’d merely payed closer attention to your materials.”

Okay, so perhaps Eggsy is guilty of those things. He bites his lip and looks away while thinking of a response but can’t seem to think of anything that might swing the argument in his favor. Still, he’s a little put out that Harry feels the need to berate him about these things and so he turns around without another word and storms back out of the office.

It’s a quick in-and-out argument but Eggsy is pissed off about it. So what he got rid of Alice? She was certainly showing habits that favored Harry’s clothing and food choices. He knows that she fancies him and so it’s just better to remove the temptation. He didn’t _dismiss_ her - he just warned her off coming back. And yes, Eggsy had a few crisps but he didn’t polish them off. That would’ve been rude.

He can’t say much about the Merlin accusation because he didn’t read the damn briefing packet. 

When Roxy and Merlin find him later it’s in the kitchen. He’s sitting up on the counter swinging his legs petulantly and eating from a tub of cottage cheese. The two of them hesitate in the doorway and look at each other.

“Eggsy, why’re you eating that much cottage cheese?” Merlin asks.

“Coz Harry’s bein’ a dickhead.”

Merlin nods and turns around, leaving Roxy in the doorway by herself. She sighs and moves to join Eggsy on the countertop. “What’s happened, Eggsy?” Eggsy hands her the container of cottage cheese and the spoon he’d been feeding himself with. “Harry’s looking for you.”

“I know.” Eggsy says. “Just give us a minute. I’ll go talk to him.”

Roxy leaves it alone and feeds Eggsy some cottage cheese. Then she tells him about how Merlin’s been looking extra handsome lately and how she has to actively keep herself from drooling when he walks in freshly showered and smelling like ‘firewood and sweets, my two favorite things’.

Eggsy has every intention of going to find Harry when they’re done talking but it doesn’t happen because Harry finds them in the kitchen before they’re finished. Roxy excuses herself and scoops an obscene amount of cottage cheese into her mouth for the road. Eggsy kicks her in the arse as she turns around and runs out of the kitchen, and then Harry takes her place against the countertop looking sideways at Eggsy.

“Eggsy,” Harry says softly. “I’m sorry for texting you my frustrations. I know you don’t like it and it’s not my place to correct your work behavior. I’m not your boss.”

“You’re my partner. You’re allowed to tell me when I’ve done something stupid.” Eggsy says. He leans over and kisses Harry’s cheek and then feeds him some cottage cheese. “I shouldn’t have opened your packet of crisps because I know you don’t eat them often. I also shouldn’t have threatened miss Alice. It’s not her fault you’re fit and get everyone hot for it.”

“Alice doesn’t like me.” Harry deadpans. “She’s married and has seven kids.”

“…” Eggsy waits for a follow up but Harry just takes the cottage cheese container from his hand and feeds himself some more. “Jesus, that’s a lot of kids.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees. “And she’s pregnant, so she certainly needs this job. Do you think you can curb your jealousy for the sake of a woman in need?”

Eggsy sighs and says, “Yeah. I’m sorry, Haz. I’ve been a complete tit. Honestly, I didn’t even read the briefing packet-” and when Harry makes a strangled noise from the back of his throat Eggsy quickly slips in, “but I knew what the objective of the mission was, I just… okay, so I do a few things wrong but you don’t have to text. You can come talk to me. And also - if you’re mad at me for fucking up a mission don’t be mad at me about the crisps and the lady at the same time. Pick one thing. I can’t handle all three when you’ve been sitting on them like that. It’s been a week since both of ‘em.”

“You’re right.” Harry laughs. “Don’t worry about the crisps, I’ll give Alice a call and in the future, please read the briefing packets. I don’t want for anything to happen to you.”

“Okay.” Eggsy says. Harry turns around and steps between Eggsy’s dangling legs, pressing the container of cottage cheese into his chest and leaning in for a kiss. Eggsy meets him halfway on impulse but holds onto the container between them to keep from making a mess.

When Harry pulls back he says, “I’ll see you at home, Eggsy. Try and stay out of trouble, won’t you?”

Eggsy shrugs his shoulders. “If I do manage to find some don’t fucking text me about it, yeah?”


	5. Pancakes (Preggsy 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mpreg - Preggsy #1

 

Eggsy’s being a little shit. He knows he is and he just can’t control himself. It’s likely the hormones or something - it’s not _him_.

He’d been trying to make pancakes and had added the wrong amount of flour. Fuck it, he’d thought, not all is lost - but then he’d gone and turned the fire up too high and burned the fucking things. Maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad. No, what breaks him is the lack of syrup to put on them.

So Harry finds him half an hour later laying on the floor and crying. He’s rubbing his large belly because he’s hungry and lazy and there isn’t anything else he wants to eat. He’s left the burned pancakes on a plate by the stove and the fridge door is wide open.

“Eggsy, dear,” Harry sighs. “What on earth’s happened?”

Eggsy looks up at Harry pitifully and sobs, “I’m hungry.”

Harry moves to help Eggsy up. The man is seven months along and doesn’t need to be laying on a dirty, cold kitchen floor. He’d be much more comfortable distressing on the couch. “It’s filthy down there, up you get.” Harry tells him.

Eggsy reaches out to take Harry’s hand and lets Harry pull him up. The man wipes the underside of his eyes with his thumbs and then pushes some of Eggsy’s fringe from his forehead so that he can kiss it. Eggsy takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to calm down. Harry asks him, “What would you like for me to make you?”

“Can you make me pancakes?” Eggsy asks.

“Of course I can. Would you like to stay in here with me or go and wait in the living room?”

“I’ll just go in there.” Eggsy mutters as he pulls back. JB is sitting in the kitchen doorway bouncing around and barking, so Eggsy bends over and picks him up on the way and they go into the living room together.

Eggsy’s tailbone hurts too bad for him to sit on the couch. He knows Harry doesn’t like it when he lays on the floor but it’s cooler down there and it feels better on his body. He puts JB on the floor and then gets down there with him and the dozey dog runs all around his head and slobbers on him. It’s alright, Eggsy thinks, because JB is his original baby.

“What are you doing?” Eggsy asks him. His nose is still blocked from his fit in the kitchen. “You wanna see daddy’s tummy?”

The dog doesn’t care but Eggsy lifts his shirt up anyway and looks down at it. Stretch marks fucking everywhere but his stomach is round and full looking. When he gets his hands on those pancakes it’ll be even better.  He pokes his belly a few times to see if he can get the little one to kick back but it doesn’t work and he ends up aggravating himself, and so then he rubs it softly in apology and says, “Sorry, love.”

It only takes Harry ten minutes to bring him a plate of pancakes.

“Where the fuck did you find the syrup?” Eggsy asks when he smells it.

“I made it.” Harry says. He crouches down beside Eggsy and slides an arm under his back so that he can help him sit up. “Are you going to eat on the floor?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy says. “My back hurts. You think I could eat laying down?”

“I don’t want you to choke.” Harry says fondly. When Eggsy is sitting up he hands him the plate and then takes a seat behind him, spreading his legs on either side of Eggsy’s body and pulling him back a little. “Lean back, it should help alleviate some of that pressure.”

“You’re the fucking best, Harry.” Eggsy tells him as he leans back against Harry’s chest. Harry kisses his cheek and lets him eat the stack of non-burned, complete with syrup pancakes.


	6. Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kneeling, task completion, sensation play and praise - for anonymous.

Harry’d called him and told him he’d be back in thirty. He’d told Eggsy to make himself presentable and to “be good” until then. Eggsy undresses himself and heads for the front door the second he ends the call because he _is_ a good boy and because he knows what’s expected of him.

There isn’t another person in the house when he goes down on his knees to wait. There isn’t anybody who would know if he just waltzed around the flat for twenty minutes and then waited the last ten. Anybody except himself, of course and he supposes that’s what makes the difference. He can’t imagine not listening to his sir when he knows that being good will get him rewarded.

He puts his hands on his thighs and he straightens up and then he waits. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t have to worry about anything and that no matter when Harry returns, Eggsy will be taken care of. He follows that train of thought and gets pleasantly happy, and when his knees start to ache he pushes that pain to the side and keeps on kneeling. He can’t be disobedient. That’s not acceptable, so he lets them go until that ache is a pleasant thrum under his bones and he can go back to thinking about how low Harry will allow him to go today.

He almost misses when the front door is opened because he’s so deep in his own head that he isn’t paying attention. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor even when he’d like to look up. For a second everything’s quiet and his immediate thought is that something is wrong, but then Harry moves over to him.

“Have you been a good boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I trust you have,” Harry says.

Eggsy whines when Harry reaches out and runs a hand through his hair. In fact, he’s spent so much time thinking about this exact moment that he falls forward a bit. Harry stops his hand on the back of Eggsy’s head and pulls him further forward and Eggsy takes the initiative to go down until his forehead is rested on one of Harry’s pristine Oxfords.

“And good boys get good rewards. I believe you told me something you’d like to try just last week, isn’t that right?”

Eggsy lights up like a Christmas tree. His body is vibrating with it because Harry is happy _and_ Harry is picking a reward from Eggsy’s list of ‘want-to-do’ things. Eggsy keeps his forehead pressed down but he reaches out and gently wraps his hand around Harry’s ankle. The next time he says, ‘yes, sir’ it’s hardly audible.

“I want for you to stand up. Take yourself upstairs and lay out on the bed, on your back and with your hands above your head, feet on the mattress and knees apart. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea and when I’ve finished with it, I’ll come up and take care of you. Have I made myself clear?”

Eggsy’s hand tightens around Harry’s ankle.

“I need to hear you, Eggsy. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Eggsy mumbles.

“Good.” Harry moves his foot away and leaves the entryway. When he’s gone Eggsy stands up on wobbly legs that have lost feeling and he has to steady himself on the banister to make sure he can get up the stairs.

The bedroom is warm but Eggsy likes sweating a bit. He goes straight to the mattress and crawls up on it, going onto his back and raising his arms, stretching while he’s at it so that his legs and knees will warm back up.

It doesn’t take long for Eggsy to hear someone ascending the stairs. The footsteps are light but they’re there. His ears are attuned to the sound of Harry, his weight, the way he walks, the time it takes him to do something and he knows when Harry is in the doorway even if he doesn’t look over. There’s the crinkling sound of plastic but Eggsy keeps his eyes on the ceiling. It isn’t until Harry appears over him that he notices what’s going on.

“Blindfold,” He whispers when he sees it. Fucking _yes._

“Yes love, lift your head for me.” Harry tells him. When Eggsy does it Harry slips the blindfold over his head and adjusts it over his eyes. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Eggsy says.

Harry gives him a kiss and then nudges him back down fully on the mattress. “Hands on the headboard.”

Eggsy’s under a bit, likely from the kneeling for half an hour. It’s especially effective to hear Harry, feel him standing overhead speaking in that low voice which says that Eggsy’s been good. That’s probably when he’d started to slip just a little bit deeper - but the lack of blood to his legs might’ve helped it along.

“Feet on the mattress and spread your knees.”

Eggsy does it immediately. Harry moves away from the bed and everything is quiet.

A minute passes and Eggsy can’t hear a fucking thing. He doesn’t know how Harry does it - moves as if he doesn’t exist. He knows the man is capable of it because he’s seen him in action when they’re working a mission together but when he applies that skill here, it turns something on in Eggsy that he can’t really control.

“Daddy…” Eggsy begs before he can stop himself. He hardly ever uses the word, only when he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed and needs something.

Harry knows this and says “I’m here, Eggsy.”

The voice is coming from right beside him. Eggsy’s not sure what Harry’s going to do and he can’t really place it even when he feels the featherlight tickle of something running up his chest. He flinches a bit because his body doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Oh,” Eggsy breathes for lack of a better thing to say. His fingers flex on the headboard but he tries to control himself.

“You are stunning, darling. Daddy is so proud.” He can feel Harry climb onto the mattress and spreads his legs further so that Harry can settle inbetween them. He doesn’t move over Eggsy - Eggsy can feel him down between his legs but can’t hear him moving much or adjusting until the sensation is crawling up his calf.

It must be a feather. The touch is so soft that Eggsy can hardly feel it, but he can feel his skin tingling where it’s crawling up his skin. His thigh muscle is twitching with the exertion of staying still despite his leg wanting to jump every second the feather moves.

“I can’t even tell you how happy Daddy is,” Harry reminds him.

Eggsy’s breathing is louder than Harry’s clothing as he runs the feather over his body, and it makes the experience because yes, Harry’s in control. He’s not slowly losing it like Eggsy is, he’s holding the fucking feather and running it over Eggsy’s sweat-damp skin and watching him try not to squirm.

When the feather makes it to his stomach Eggsy’s abs twitch. He hopes that he looks good for Harry like this because it’s taking him everything to not kick his legs out or take his hands off of the headboard to rub himself. Harry moves the feather so, so slowly and it takes forever before the tip of it is circling Eggsy’s nipple.

He bites his lip so hard he tastes copper.

“Eggsy,” Harry says. “You’re not to bite your lip like that.”

Eggsy opens his eyes and then remembers that he’s blindfolded. A soft noise escapes the back of his throat and then Harry nips at the hinge of his knee and Eggsy loses it. He moans from low in his chest and it’s the moment he recognizes the weight of his cock resting on his stomach. He doesn’t know how long he’s been hard, hasn’t really cared up until this very moment when he suddenly feels like his body needs some sort of release.

“Should I fuck you, Eggsy?” Harry asks quietly. He runs the feather from Eggsy’s chest to his raised arm where it's aching from how tense he is and that’s another sensation altogether. Eggsy’s cock dribbles. “You deserve it, god knows you deserve it. I’ve gone all this week thinking of what I should do to show you how good you’ve been.”

Eggsy swallows around nothing because he’s actually lost control of what to do with his body. He’s _sensitive_ of all things - his body is anticipating the feeling of something dragging over his skin even if it isn’t there. He can’t process everything at once, but then Harry removes the feather from his arm and goes back to nipping at his body, his calves, ankles, all the way back up until his lips are ghosting over Eggsy’s cock. He blows softly and Eggsy jumps a bit. “Do you want daddy’s mouth, Eggsy?”

“Yes, please, please,” Eggsy whispers. Harry has taken the feather and is dragging it through the small, clear pool of precum collecting on Eggsy’s stomach.

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy,” Eggsy says softly. He’s not loud when he’s talking, but the second Harry sucks the tip of his dick into his mouth he really lets it go. Harry runs the feather around the base of his cock as he sucks and tongues at the head, not going further down than that. Coupled with Eggsy’s body being as thrummed up as it is, the whole thing is magic.

When he thinks about it, it might even be the thought of Harry sucking him off that’s affecting him much more than the lack of sight or the body sensitivity because he feels completely on edge, like he needs to move even if he hasn’t been given permission to. But then Harry is right there taking care of him, going down on him and taking him further and further into his mouth -  bobbing his head and the sound is obscene. Eggsy can’t see it but he can imagine it and he knows his Daddy is working him. That’s why he feels so good.

When Eggsy comes it’s not because of the feather or the blindfold, but because Harry pulls off and says he can. He’s amazed to have done it since that’s never happened before - and Harry seems to be thinking a similar thing because he says, “My _god_ Eggsy,” and crawls up his body to kiss the shit out of him. Eggsy whimpers into it because Harry’s clothed body rubs against his spent cock and it hurts. Not to mention his arms are completely frozen. “Christ, let me get you.” Harry says as he takes Eggsy’s hands down from the headboard.

Eggsy mumbles, “I wanna see you,” and so Harry takes the blindfold off and tosses it to the night stand.

“How is your body feeling?” Harry asks. “Are your arms alright?”

“Mm,” Eggsy says. Harry looks fucking great. Ugh, he wants Harry’s cock in his mouth. There isn’t any particular reason, he’d just like to feel the weight of it on his tongue for a minute.

“Eggsy,” Harry says fondly. “Talk to me. Legs, arms, are they cramped, hurt? Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes.” Eggsy says. He loved the kneeling. Since it seems that Harry’s speaking with him about it (so they’re done for right now), he closes his eyes again and tries to roll over because if he can do that then Harry can lay behind him and cuddle him. Then they can talk about whatever. “Please,” He says. “I’m alright.” and then as an afterthought he says, “Was I good?”

“Oh, Eggsy,” Harry says as he moves to accommodate Eggsy. They end up spooned up against one another with Eggsy holding tight to one of Harry’s arms around his waist. “You’ve done so well. I can’t believe some of the things you do for me. I love every time you get like this and it just… I can’t tell you how much it affects me.”

Eggsy squeezes Harry’s hand and just lets him talk about it.They can get back to spanking tomorrow.


	7. Show Me The Ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humiliation, safe-word, mentions of belting

Harry isn’t shocked it happens, only that it hasn’t happened sooner.

He’s very careful with Eggsy. He makes him count every smack, tap, scrape, or cut he gives him, researches all brands of tools and toys they use thrice before he considers bringing them into the bedroom, maps out everything that Eggsy responds to so that he can make sure he’s giving the boy exactly what he needs. It’s crucial for every part of Harry’s psyche that he be aware of what’s going on with Eggsy when they play.

But the essence of what they do is that boundaries are tested. Being cautious and keeping Eggsy safe is a priority that comes from experience and correcting mistakes.

All of the best nights they’ve had have started with Eggsy’s quiet, “ _Hey, I saw something I wanna try with you_ ” and Harry indulges so many things that he expects to say yes given that he has enough time to prepare. This time it’s different because as much as he loves Eggsy and as much as he respects his suggestions, this is one that he doesn’t _quite_ understand.

“You’d like to be humiliated?”

“A bit.” Eggsy clarifies. “It’s supposed to help me work it all out. You know.”

‘It’ being his history with degradation and disrespect . It’s a sore spot for both of them, but Eggsy is a progressive and so Harry is more than willing to look into this for him

“It very well could. Do you think you’d really like that sort of thing?” Harry asks.

“Dunno.” Eggsy tells him. “If you tried it with me, I think I might like anything.”

He tells Eggsy that they can certainly try it, but that it’s a learning experience for both of them and they need to keep that in mind. It goes against everything Harry is to tell Eggsy that he’s worthless, or to even insinuate that he’s anything but exemplary for what he allows Harry to do with him.

The important thing is that it doesn’t work, and this becomes perfectly clear when Harry tries it for the first time. They’re in the middle of a scene, Eggsy on his knees by the bed, flog cuffed to one of the bedposts with a set of keys cradled in his palm as a precautionary addition to his safeword. Harry’s had him tied up for a good twenty minutes, had started out with a spanking to warm him up and get him in the right state of mind and then had moved onto a belt when Eggsy’s arse was a nice, red color. Eggsy’s vibrating with energy and it likely has to do with the fact that his calves are rubbing at his oversensitive backside.

Harry thinks he can try it - he starts off light, tells Eggsy to suck his cock and stands in front of him while he opens up. Eggsy’s so good at knowing what Harry wants because he’s learned his sir’s body and so it’s perfect, of course it’s perfect. But Harry’s job right now isn’t to say that, and so while Eggsy slobbers around the girth of him he says, “Is this how we suck cock, Eggsy? I thought you’d learned better than this.”

Eggsy wants to do good and so he starts quivering with a sort of pent up frustration, all but choking himself on Harry’s cock. He’s never liked disappointing Harry.

Harry hums and let’s him do it, telling him that the harder he tries the sloppier he gets and that it’s no good, _he’s_ no good at it. 

Harry works his way up a list of words he’d never use against Eggsy: whore, pathetic, useless, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t like the effect it had on Eggsy. The boy trembles when he hears the filth falling from Harry’s mouth and when Harry calls him replaceable Eggsy bobs his head with so much enthusiasm that Harry’s afraid he might sprain his neck.

So he tells Eggsy to stop. He steps back so that his dick pops free and leaves an obscene line of saliva connecting the two of them. He looks down at his boy and tells him to put his forehead on the ground so that he can get a good look at his arse.

“You’d spread your legs for anybody, wouldn’t you?” Harry whispers to him. He’s circling Eggsy’s body and the boy is so beautifully silent and composed, taking it in and going forward until he’s kissing the carpet, just like Harry’d asked him to do. “Let anybody stuff you full of cock and and call you theirs. Who would want to fuck a person like that? You can answer.”

The way Eggsy breathes, “Nobody” is a bit too real, a bit too sad, and a bit too much for Harry. He isn’t expecting it but it throws him so severely off track that he stops. His thoughts go to protecting Eggsy from whatever’s made him sound that way until he remembers that it’s _him_  that’s done it and then it quickly becomes overwhelming.

Harry’s the one that says, “…Red.”

He asks himself after he’s said it _how_ he could say it when Eggsy’s in the state he’s in - what kind of partner that makes him if he can’t do this. It’s the principle that he’s the anchor in the relationship that makes him squirm away from the idea. He doesn’t have a handle on what he’s doing and so by extension, he shouldn’t be doing it. 

“Harry,” Eggsy breathes. He’s tugging on his ropes. The boy is still a Kingsman agent, even if he’s a bit loopy - it only takes a moment before his wrists are slipping free and the keys are on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Eggsy. I can’t do this.”

Eggsy’s response is understandably delayed. He looks surprised, a bit lost, but there enough that he recognizes Harry and so Harry goes and winds an arm around his waist to lift him. His legs must be stiff. He thinks that Eggsy will want to lay down but the boy clings to Harry like an octopus and says, “I’m sorry, it was too much.”

“It was too much,” Harry confirms. “And you were still perfect for me. You were so good Eggsy, it wasn’t you. It was silly old Harry.”

Eggsy adjusts Harry’s arm around his waist so that he can press closer, and then he winds an arm around Harry’s back and up into his hair. He kisses at Harry’s neck now that he’s allowed and lays a few apologies on his skin in the hopes that it’ll help Harry come back around. When he says, “Wanna talk about it now” he sounds intoxicated.

The poor boy’s voice is still wobbly, his forehead still damp with sweat and the way he’s clinging to Harry means that they stopped too quickly and Eggsy is still trying to work it out. He’s doing a damn good job. Still, that’s not a job he needs while he’s coming down so no, Harry can’t talk about it right now. He can lay with Eggsy until there’s a better time to bring it up.

He steps Eggsy back to the bed and lays him down on it, climbing up onto the mattress next to him and curling around him. “We can talk about it later.” Harry assures him. “For now I’d just like to lay with you for a bit. Is that alright?”

Eggsy nearly rolls on top of him for how close he presses himself to Harry’s side. He kisses Harry’s cheek and then nuzzles him for a minute. “I had a lot of fun,” He whispers. “Coz you used the belt. Look.” And then he grabs one of Harry’s hands and drags it around him so that Harry can feel the welts that are still there. “Those are nice, yeah?”

“They’re beautiful.” Harry agrees. He has to lotion them and Eggsy probably needs some water, but he’s left it over on the dresser and so he’s going to have to somehow get over there. He’ll give it a minute. Eggsy seems to be doing alright and Harry can’t bring himself to stand up just yet. 

Eggsy doesn’t care about much right now, anyway. He keeps looking at Harry like he’s hung the moon. He runs his trembling fingers up and down the bridge of Harry’s nose until Harry’s utterly relaxed laying next to him, and then Eggsy smiles and says, “I really do love you Harry. Like lots.”

“And I love you, Eggsy.” Harry tells him.

He lets Eggsy doze because after springing this on him the boy must be knackered. He thinks about standing up to take the ropes off of the post, thinks about drinking some water himself since his mouth has gone dry, but he can’t stop touching Eggsy and for the moment he doesn’t have to. He lays there and listens to Eggsy’s deep breathing thinking that when they wake up, Harry can pull his head out of his ass and finally talk about everything that happened with Eggsy’s stepfather. 

Until then, he’ll let Eggsy nap.


	8. Top Tier, Five Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percilot - dirty talk

James thinks it’s funny that they were desperate enough to fuck on a forest floor in Albania. There’s nothing Percival can do about that. If the man finds it funny, he finds it funny.

But James needs to get off his damn desk.

“Get _off_ of my desk,” Percival tells him. He swats at his backside with the packet Merlin’s just given him. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

James yawns and leans back further, spreading his legs just enough for it to be noticeable. “I’m just here to check on you.”

“Did Merlin send you or did you send yourself?” Percival asks shortly.

He’s not going to sit here and get emotionally assaulted by his fiance, so he takes his packet and steps between James’ thighs in order to toss it over his shoulder. He doesn’t have any intention of staying between the man’s thighs, but there’s the pressure of a hand around his waist before he’s even let go of the damn folder so he decides to stay there for just a minute.

“Are you upset with me?” James asks.

“No,” Percival says. Except he’s a bit peeved about James bringing up, yet again, that they’d had sex on a forest floor in Albania (to Harry of all people and of course, what Harry knows Merlin knows). “Though I wish you wouldn’t bring up our Albanian trip to the others. Have I mentioned that before?”

“Often enough.” James mumbles. He’s already leaning in to give an apologetic kiss, but Percival turns his face and when James’ lips catch on his ear he smiles to himself. James looks absolutely indignant and that’s perfect, because now when Percival makes requests, maybe he’ll be more inclined follow them.

“Listen to me, James.” He hooks a finger under James’ chin so that he can keep his attention. “Gentlemen don’t _brag_.”

“Just admit you think about it as often as I do, then I’ll drop it.”

Well Percival thinks about sex every time he sees James and he wouldn’t lie about that. It’s the admittance of thinking about this particular incident that James is looking for and Percy’s not ready to give it to him yet. “You know what I think about often?”

“Oh, do tell.”

Percy winds both arms around James’ waist and pulls him roughly to the edge of the desk. The man makes a soft noise and tightens his thighs to keep Percy securely between his legs. “I think about our first anniversary.”

“I can’t recall it. You’ll have to remind me.”

Percival leans in and nips at James’ bottom lip before saying, “Should I remind you? I can’t believe you don’t remember it.” And when James says nothing, he carries on, “Then should I start with you taking me out to dinner? Or should I just skip straight to you pressing my face into the couch cushions while you fucked me from behind - because you like it when I’ve got a mouthful but your cock can’t be in two places at once, can it? Or maybe I should remind you of how you were so hot for it you couldn’t even keep me on the couch. You had to push me over the coffee table too and bruise up my belly. Oh, no - _I_ know. I’ll just start with you burning up my back on the carpet, holding my legs open and bruising my thighs with those big hands of yours. You know Merlin saw me the next day and thought I’d been on evac.”

James breathes ‘ _christ’_  and so Percy gets to the point. “When I tell you to keep mum about Albania, I do it because I _know_ it’s possible to keep quiet about the best sex of your life.”

“That was really the best?” James asks. It comes out a bit wobbly and Percival mentally pats himself on the back.

“Up until Albania.” Percy smiles. This time when he leans in to kiss James it’s with the fervor he’d wanted to use the second he’d seen James sprawled out on his desk. He whines into it, fingers tightening in the fabric of James’ suit. James is a bit more aggressive and he runs his fingers through Percival’s hair, effectively damaging any hold that the putty had been trying to maintain.

He won’t have any leg to stand on if he scolds James for talking about their sex lives in public and then proceeds to get down for the security cameras he knows Merlin is keeping an eye on, so he let’s James taste him - just a little bit - and then puts a stop to it.

“Wait,” He breathes against James’ lips and shockingly the man does. “We need to stop. We don’t need Merlin and Harry thinking about me scuffing up my knees for you. if you’re good and can keep quiet I’ll have a surprise waiting for you at home tonight. How’s that sound?”

So for the rest of the day James makes sure he doesn’t even mention Percival’s name. If Merlin and Harry notice they don’t say anything, and when James gets home he asks Percival if he wouldn’t mind another set of bruises. They ruin their fucking coffee table but it’s alright, because when James goes in the next day and starts running his mouth, at least it’s not about the sex they had in a forest in fucking Albania.


	9. The Juggling Pug (Preggsy 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preggsy #2

There are times when Harry thinks that perhaps Eggsy’s a bit _too_ fond of pugs.

What starts out as a minor collection of pug-related artifacts turns into an indecent amount of keepsakes that wind up all over the house. Harry’s initial response is to blame it on the pregnancy because prior to knocking Eggsy up, they didn’t have this issue, but then he thinks carefully back to Eggsy’s apprenticeship and realizes that the man has always been a bit crazy about them.

What spurs this train of thought is the onesie Eggsy dangles in front of Harry’s face. It’s for the baby and it’s what Eggsy tells him is a ‘Kigurumi’ (or a type of animal pyjama). The problem is that he hasn’t just bought one for the baby. He’s also bought one for himself and for Harry.

“Ok Harry, look. They’re super comfortable.” Eggsy is explaining as he lays it flat on the table and rubs out the creases. “She’ll be warm and cute as fuck at _the same time_.”

“It does look quite comfortable.” Harry agrees. He walks to Eggsy’s side and hands off his cup of warm water and Eggsy takes it, sips from it, then hands it back. “Also, there’s a notice on my card about a purchase for a series of children’s books. I assume that was you?”

Eggsy clears his throat and has the audacity to look a bit sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry’s not sure why Eggsy looks so suspect until a day later when he actually has to collect them from Merlin (because Eggsy’s gone and had it rush delivered to Kingsman masquerading the package as a matter of national security). Harry’s not impolite enough to open anyone’s mail but he can tell from the weight of it that it’s the books.

“What in the hell is that?” Merlin asks.

“Eggsy’s gone and bought a series of children’s books to read.” Harry admits. “Though I’ve no idea which ones they are.”

“If he used your card, I can look.” Merlin says. 

“You could look even if it weren’t my card.” Harry reminds him softly.

“Yes, but he’s gone and spent Kingsman money on these ones and so this order list is a click away.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t. Is this considered an invasion of privacy?” Harry asks.

“I’m not sure. Is nicking your husbands card to purchase twenty two children’s books about pugs an invasion of privacy?”

Harry startles and looks up at Merlin’s screen.

“Oh my god.” He says quietly. Twenty two goddamn books. The list of book names are ridiculous. The Juggling Pug, an entire series of Chick’n’Pug, The Adventures of Pugsley, Amazing Pugs, Puddle Pug, Pig Pug, the list scrolls on and Harry is actually shocked by the amount of times his brain reads through the word pug before he physically has to stop and reevaluate Eggsy’s level of dedication to his craft. He shakes his head and says, “Our child will come out with four legs and a tail at this rate.”

“And Eggsy would mind?” Merlin asks.

No, perhaps he wouldn’t.

Harry takes Eggsy’s package back to their house for him. The boy is sleeping on the couch by the time he gets back. There’s a plate of unfinished marmite and toast on the coffee table in front of him and Harry’s going to clean that up to prevent bugs, but first he’s going to give Eggsy a kiss. He sets the box down in the entryway and moves into the living room to where Eggsy is sprawled out like a dead man, shirt pulled up over his belly.

It’s nice to see Eggsy sleeping. Harry takes a knee beside the couch and runs his hand over Eggsy’s smooth and round stomach before leaning in to kiss it. He can feel the baby moving a bit, just small jolts of the skin under his palm, but it’s a relaxed type of movement and not the agitated kicking the baby usually puts Eggsy through when he tries to rest.

“Haz,” Eggsy croaks after a minute. “Did you get my books?”

So he wasn’t really sleeping all that well. Harry looks slightly apologetic. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, no.” Eggsy says. He readjusts himself, briefly rubbing the back of Harry’s hand to keep him in place while he moves. “She’s just wakin’ up, kicking my spine and shit. I tried to doze off but I can’t sleep. Thought I’d read to her a bit.”

“From your ginormous collection of pug books?”

Eggsy sighs. “Those aren’t for her. They’re for JB.”

There’s a stunned sort of silence during which Harry conceptualizes “those aren’t for her. They’re for JB” and then his brain sort of goes offline because it can’t compute the idea that someone would buy their dog twenty plus children’s books. 

Who the fuck did he actually marry?

“They’re for the dog.” Harry says without inflection.

“Yeah. The baby’s books are all upstairs on my side of the bed. The ones about fire-breathing dragons and stuff.”

Harry recognizes this instantly for the opportunity that it is to say something, but when he looks at Eggsy and sees that the boy is content to just talk with him like this, there isn’t anything _to_ say. It would be easy for Harry to bring up the fact that Eggsy’s a bit too immersed in his dog’s life, but how can he do that when Eggsy is coping with being uncomfortable all day, dealing with hormonal imbalances, bored out of his mind a lot of the time because he’s been benched since seven months ago.

He looks back down at Eggsy’s stomach and gives it another kiss before standing up. “Why don’t we go upstairs and lay down. If you bring JB perhaps we can make our way through a few of those books of yours.”

No, Harry won’t say a thing because he reckons pugs aren’t the worst thing Eggsy could be fixated on.


	10. Roxlin Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxlin - Spanking, d/s undertones

“My _, my,_  Lancelot. You are feeling a bit restless today.”

“Merlin.” Roxy breathes. “I’m sorry, _god.”_

There’s likely something in the books about boundaries for relationships with your boss, but that’s not a book Roxy would spend her time reading these days. Any literature that even  _suggests_  she needs to be anywhere but bent over Merlin’s desk is tripe.

“I’d take off my belt but I’m not sure you deserve it,” Merlin continues. His voice is jovial, not at all strained by the exertion of repeatedly smacking Roxy’s bare arse with his open palm. “No, a girl who can’t follow orders doesn’t deserve a belting, does she?”

She’d likely say anything at this point to keep Merlin steadily working her into the desk like this. His hand is large, fingers spread wide so that it stings when he brings it down on her. Her voice jogs on every other word when she says, “I d-don’t deserve i-it.” She doesn’t deserve this either, honestly, but Merlin’s giving it to her because he’s a benevolent sir.

“So what do we do about that, Mrs. Morton?”

Roxy turns her head into the crease of her arm and takes a deep breath. She needs to line her thoughts up and give him a good answer. That’s the only way she’ll be rewarded later. And she really should pick a good punishment for herself because as far as discipline goes spanking is nothing. It’s a mood setter. 

“I won’t come.” Roxy tells him, though it’s muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

“You won’t come?” Merlin asks her. “For how long?” 

Here’s the tricky part. She’d been told to stay home for the day and refrain from touching herself and she’d done neither of those things, fuck knows why. That’s pretty bad all things considered. Maybe she’d been waiting to be punished or maybe she’d wanted Merlin so bad she couldn’t remember what she’d been told not to do. So she thinks about how long it would take her to become uncomfortable enough to remember orders and mutters, “two weeks.”

Merlin stops spanking and rubs Roxy’s backside. He makes an impressed noise in the back of his throat and says, “That punishment starts today.” He swats at her lovingly one more time before moving back to his seat. The chair creaks as he sits down. “Go home. Play with yourself. Keep yourself busy. I’ll be home to take care of you in a bit.”

Roxy’s still leaned over the desk. That’s really more than she could have asked for. She smiles into the crook of her arm and says, “Yes, Merlin.”


	11. Hurry Harry, Kiss Me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky kisses from sneaky Eggsy

Harry decides late one afternoon that he _must_ be smitten with Eggsy.

According to Merlin the realization is long overdue. The truth is that the boy manages to get away with things that would regularly get a man killed, and Harry likes him all the better for them.

But even through the admittance, Harry tries to save face. He tells Merlin and Percival that Eggsy isn’t treated any differently than any other person he’s mentored. He tells Roxy that Eggsy’s still penalized for breaking the rules. He knows he’s not being honest, but the nature of his craft as a Kingsman requires that he bend the truth a little bit in certain situations to retain a modicum of pride.

The point is that this facade is impossible to manage. Especially when Eggsy runs in during _very important meetings_ and screams, “Hurry, Harry! Kiss me!”

Merlin drops his clipboard and the sound startles Harry into action. His first, fleeting, panicking thought is that Eggsy’s in trouble. Yes, they’re at Kingsman and yes, Eggsy’s surrounded by the most competent secret agents in the world, but the boy manages to get into _everything_ and trouble isn’t excluded from that list. The second harrowing thought that crosses his mind is that Merlin’s just as confused as he is, and if Merlin doesn’t know what’s going on, nobody does.

“Eggsy,” Harry huffs as the younger man stumbles into his arms, and then Harry grabs Eggsy and kisses him. He completely misses the way Roxy trips into the room after him, the word ‘no’ dying on her lips and of course he misses the way Merlin rubs the bridge of his nose in a defeated type of agitation. He’s surrounded by Eggsy’s arms as the boy pulls them more closely together and hums against Harry’s lips happily.

When they pull apart Harry says, “What on _earth_ is going on?”

Eggsy can’t stop smiling. He clears his throat and says, “Merlin wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone. I missed you!”

“Eggsy…” Harry sighs. “Are you in trouble?”

“What? No.” Eggsy laughs. He leans in and kisses Harry again, dropping dramatically in his arms so that the older man has to take his weight. Harry tries his hardest not to smile against the boy’s lips because Merlin’s in here and because he’s already toeing the thin line between what he’s letting Eggsy do and low levels of professionalism, but he tilts Eggsy so that he can give him a proper snogging that’ll hold him over until later, and then he stands him upright and lets him go.

“Harry.” Merlin says.

Eggsy’s the one that looks over because he’s young and shameless. “Sorry Merlin, thought I’d come say hi.”

Merlin purses his lips and gestures towards the door. “Out.”

Harry clears his throat and tugs down his suit top. He takes his seat and then considers Merlin silently until Roxy has dragged Eggsy back out of the room, and even after the door has closed neither of them says anything for a long moment.

“Right,” Merlin breathes. He picks up his clipboard and carries on with the meeting because he’s a professional.

Harry has an absurd appreciation for Merlin’s friendship, if for no other reason than the man doesn’t bring up again how over the moon Harry’s managed to travel. He understands quite clearly following this particular event that Eggsy is indeed spoiled and treated incredibly different from other agents. It can likely be argued that it’s because Harry’s protege are always propped up on a pedestal, but the truth is much more likely that Harry Hart is in love - and that as long as Eggsy surprises him with kisses following his extra long and strenuous missions, that fact isn’t likely to change. 


	12. By Any Other Name (Preggsy 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preggsy #3

It’s not until Eggsy’s heavy into his third trimester that Harry realizes they haven’t considered names for the child. He’s been referring to her as ‘the little one’ or ‘small Eggsy’ and up until Merlin asks him what name he should have engraved on the bassinet, Harry doesn’t think twice about it.

He brings these concerns up to Eggsy who’s been so restless about not doing anything lately that he turns it into a mission. It’s codename is ‘name the wean’ and this is the headline Eggsy attaches to the small chart he draws up for them before he hangs it on the fridge. It’s essentially a blank list, but when Eggsy smacks it with his pencil and looks at Harry as if they’re in a business meeting, the man sits up a bit straighter and nods his head.

“Alright grandad,” Eggsy says happily. He’s waddling around the kitchen with a pickle in his other hand that’s been dipped in jam. Harry would be much more nauseated by it if he weren’t so unbearably fond of the way Eggsy cradles his tummy when he’s not munching on it. “We got like, eight weeks _max_ to figure this out.”

“And we have zero names thus far.”

Eggsy hums and says, “Well that’s not so bad. Give us a name right now.”

“How about Sophia?” Harry asks.

Eggsy chews on it for a second before squinting an eye and saying, “Ehm…mmm.”

He doesn’t like that name. Harry understands completely. He’s never met the girl, has only ever touched her through the wall that Eggsy’s body is creating around her, but he knows that she’s not a Sophia. Or a Chloe. Or a Jasmine. In fact, he can’t think of a name that matches who she is. It’s a bit frustrating.

If she’s anything like Eggsy she’ll be good-natured and clever, resilient, impulsive. From harry she might be secure, confident, organized and overtly critical of her surroundings, but with good cause. Either way, she’s going to be a firecracker of a child.

“I have no bloody clue which name might work. I can’t think of any.” Harry admits.

Eggys yawns and pats his stomach a few times. Pickle juice drips on the kitchen floor and Eggsy notices it at the same time as Harry does. Luckily they have a living vacuum cleaner named JB who’s very attentive, and Harry can hear his claws clacking across the kitchen floor as he goes to lick it up.

“He’s so fat.” Eggsy laughs. “So fuckin’ cute.”

Harry doesn’t mention that JB’s obesity makes him eons less productive than the other Kingsman dogs, but he assumes that once the little one is born JB will have plenty of opportunity to burn off the extra calories. Further, when Eggsy’s cleared to go back to work the dog will certainly follow.

“Don’t stress out about it, Haz.” Eggsy tells him. He goes to sit next to him at the table and offers Harry some of his pickle. “I’ve met parents who got their baby’s names off a packet of crisps.”

“You’ve put something on it.” Harry reminds him as Eggsy prods him with the pickle. The boy has the strangest taste and pregnancy has certainly pushed it over into ‘essentially inedible’. Still Harry allows Eggsy to feed it to him and he gags when it hits his tongue because that’s not jam, it’s fucking marmite. “Christ,” He croaks.

Eggsy smiles and says, “We’ll figure it out, yeah?”

-

Two weeks pass before they actually figure it out. Eggsy’s belly is so big he refuses to wear clothes around the house. He carries the sheet off of their bed on his shoulders as some attempt at modesty, but his increasingly round bottom is highlighted quite beautifully by the white fabric and so after a bit, Harry argues that perhaps it’s not about modesty at all.

There’s an evening that Harry’s sat down to watch a movie and Eggsy joins him, crawling up onto the couch and right against Harry’s side. Then he lays his head down on the man’s lap and wraps the sheet tightly around himself, burrowing in.

“Aren’t you cold?” Harry asks.

“Little bit. I’ll warm up. What’re you watchin’?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird.” Harry tells him. “It’s a wonderful film. Have you ever seen it?”

“Few times, yeah. My dad had a copy of it and mum would put it on from time to time.”

Harry hums and rubs Eggsy’s shoulder. The boy is freezing. “You have to turn this cold air up Eggsy. You can’t freeze yourself. You’ll get sick.”

“Sorry.” Eggsy says. “I’ll do it later.”

Harry doesn’t believe that. He stops rubbing Eggsy’s shoulder long enough to run a hand through his hair, and then he bends down and kisses his forehead. Eggsy tilts his face up into it but doesn’t do much else, eyes still trained on the TV. He’s got a big thing for movies, Harry’s learned.

The thought hits him all of a sudden. Something about Gregory Peck saying very important and existential things in the periphery of their company.

“Eggsy.” Harry says.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think of the name Scout?”

Eggsy looks away from the television long enough to consider it. “Scout?”

“Scout.”

“Oh my god,” Eggsy says. He turns a bit more and says, “How did you - Harry, I love it. That’s genius, you’re fucking genius, holy shit. My baby’s a fucking Scout.”

Harry sometimes wonders if the little one - no, _Scout_ \- might come out speaking in profanities. Eggsy’s not spoken more than a few sentences without a word or two you shouldn’t say around your mother. The thought tickles him a bit. Not to mention his baby has a name and Harry didn’t even need to look at a packet of crisps. Eggsy smiles back up at him and says ‘come here you fucking wizard’ before pulling him in for a kiss.

-

Harry tells Merlin quite proudly that they’ve come up with a name. Scout Unwin-Hart. Middle name: TBA but not nearly as crucial as the first name, so he’s not so frantic about it.

“Congratulations Harry.” Merlin smiles. “It’s a beautiful name for what’s certain to be the world’s most spoilt and well protected child.”


	13. Moet & Chandon (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set-up for stripper!Eggsy verse I was/am writing. Slowly. Lol.

Harry’s too old to be suffocating in arse.

He’s too old to be accepting missions where the objective is to take a too young and too attractive twenty-something, and wheedle him for information by ‘whatever means necessary’. He’s certainly too old to be suggesting that ‘whatever means necessary’ should include eating someone out for the better part of half an hour.

Yet needs must, and so here he is.

The boy’s name is Gary but he goes by Eggsy and he’s not much of a talker. He’s a superb dancer, has the balance of a gymnast and the sensuality of a porn star, but the talking thing he just won’t do. That’s bad because Eggsy knows something about his stepfather’s business which, consequently, kills people and which Harry has to very quickly dismantle. It’s very important that Harry somehow get him to talk.

And, yes, perhaps oral isn’t his most elaborate ploy to get someone speaking, but at least the boy’s mouth is open.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Eggsy breathes, fingers tangled in Harry’s hair and he’s completely fucking it up. It’s fine, though, since Harry’s tongue is up his arse. Maybe he should have introduced himself twenty minutes ago, then he could justify the amount of product Eggsy’s actually wiping out of his hair.

He turns his head enough that he can respond ‘Henry’ before spreading Eggsy’s calves further apart on his shoulders. “I should have said so earlier, I apologize.” His tongue is stiff, his jaw and chin have spit all over them and he hasn’t done this since he was a young thing trawling around London looking for free drinks.

Eggsy looks down at him from between his legs, and so Harry takes the opportunity to lean forward and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock. Eggsy makes a soft noise but doesn’t blink otherwise. “You’re fuckin’ peng,” Eggsy says. “Why ain’t I seen you around here before?”

Harry’s supposed to be the one asking questions. Eggsy’s a naturally inquisitive sort of boy, every bit like his father in that he’ll ask twenty questions before he steps off the ledge. Harry says, “Because I’ve never been around here before.”

Eggsy flexes his calves, tugging Harry closer just a bit. There’s a moment where they’re just looking at each other and Harry thinks that Eggsy knows who he is and why he’s here. The boy’s safeguarding a mine of information and looking down at a man twice his age who’s still got spittle drying on his face, and Eggsy doesn’t look like he intends to say a damn thing.

So Harry watches him closely the next time he leans down to suck on Eggsy’s balls, drawing them into his mouth and getting them nice and wet before letting them go and licking out at them. He sees Eggsy tense up just enough that he knows what he’s doing is effective, watches Eggsy’s eyes roll back just a little before he lays back down on the table and uses his hands for other things than pulling out Harry’s hair, like pulling at his own nipples and sticking his fingers in his mouth.

Harry turns his head and kisses Eggsy’s inner thigh. The boy is a sight for sore eyes, definitely. Harry’s a bit debauched by the idea of fucking his ex-coworkers son but he’s perfectly content fronting the responsibility of it to the mission. When he goes back to spreading Eggsy’s cheeks and licking into the space between them, it’s with the comfort that _Kingsman’s_ made him a dirty old man, not any personal predispositions.

Eggsy whines quietly. He doesn’t say how good it is or how much he’s eating it up, only gasps and rolls his hips so that Harry’s tongue will move a little more firmly against him. There isn’t enough pressure to push him inside but it’s fine because Eggsy hiccoughs and then groans low in his throat. He stops tugging at his nipples long enough to grab at the edge of the table above his head, using it as leverage to rock himself against Harry’s mouth. He’s making these tiny little choked noises that sound forced out of his throat, barely there but devastatingly arousing all the same. 

Harry wonders what Eggsy would say if he let his guard down for long enough to open his mouth. He nearly drives himself mad with the thought that Eggsy might beg Harry to tongue him open harder and then fuck him with his fingers. He might choke out Harry’s name over and over again, or he might not even speak words, just make sounds that disguise themselves as such. 

Yes, there’s a reason he’s here that has shit all to do with the way Eggsy responds to his touches, but sod if anyone thinks he won’t take advantage of the situation to learn what the boy likes. He won’t forget the mission which is to find access to Dean Baker. The thing is that Harry’s not stupid enough to beleive Eggsy’s mid-coital slips might provide any pertinent information. What he needs is an Eggsy who likes what he’s given enough to go looking for it again. Rinse and repeat until the boy is attached enough to give it up.

Harry presses two fingers up against where his tongue is prodding Eggsy’s entrance, slips them into his mouth and slobbers on them heavy before pressing them against the boy’s puckering hole, and he can feel when Eggsy sits up just a smidge to see what he’s doing.

“Oh, _god.”_

The boy’s legs are shaking on his shoulder, heels occasionally knocking his back as he wiggles his arse in a way that Harry assumes means he’s ready for those fingers to be doing something, but Harry just pushes them up against him with enough pressure to be noticeable and says, “You won’t ask for it, Eggsy?”

Eggsy moans in some broken way that sounds as if he doesn’t want to. After a second he whispers, “ _Please_ , Henry.”

And so Harry spits gratuitously where his fingers are already nudging, and then pushes them in firmly until they slip past the ring of muscle into the tight heat of Eggsy’s body. Eggsy’s leg twitches and he huffs out a shocked little noise but then grinds down on them as best he can given his position.

Spit as lube doesn’t last long and Harry can feel his fingers going dry seconds in, but Eggsy enjoys the friction enough to be moving back on it roughly, chasing the tail of some orgasm that’s just far enough away to be frustrating. Harry can see where his cock is rested heavily against his abdomen, leaking a small puddle of fluid onto the skin beside his belly button. It’s thick and curved, veiny in a way that makes his mouth water.

Harry fingers with purpose, prodding around until Eggsy yelps and kicks his leg out. Harry tries not to smile up at him since the boy is in his own world, head lolling back and forth as Harry starts milking his prostate. His eyes go between cataloguing Eggsy’s facial expressions and watching his cock twitch against his belly, and at some point Eggsy says, “God, don’t fucking stop, christ.”

Harry presses in as deep as he can go, crooking his fingers and pulling back out slowly so that they rub along his spot on the way out. When he’s confident that the angle is right he starts up a rhythm that he’s certain is rough enough to burn and Eggsy goes bonkers for it, holding tightly to the coffee table beneath him and letting Harry fingerfuck him as hard as he’d like.

Eggsy comes with his legs tightening indecently on Harry’s shoulders. Harry can only hear his harsh breathing with a few whisps of air strong enough to become whines. He’s white-knuckling the coffee table in a way that looks painful and Harry has a front row seat to the mess he’s making of his stomach. It goes on forever and Harry just waits it out, fingering Eggsy lazily as he rides out a strong orgasm that, quite frankly, looks like it might put the boy to sleep.

There’s a minute where neither of them say a thing. Then:

“Was that alright, Eggsy?” Harry asks. He tries not to be impish about it, but Eggsy’s still sweating and trying to collect himself, so.

Eggsy grunts and lets one of his legs drop to the floor. Harry places the other one carefully down on the ground and then crawls up over Eggsy’s body just a bit. He tongues his way through the thatch of come that’s pooled and is in danger of dribbling down off of his body, and runs a wet line all the way up to his chest, nipping at the skin right below his nipple.

Eggsy doesn’t say anything. He looks down and watches Harry make an even bigger mess of his body.

“I have to go back to work.” Eggsy croaks.

“I know.” Harry says.

Eggsy doesn’t even have the energy to lift his head. He just lets it drop to the side and closes his eyes, humming happily when Harry starts kissing his way up to his chin. He nips at that, too, before kissing it in apology. “I have to go.”

“What?” Eggsy asks.

“I have to leave.”

“You’ll be back round though.” Eggsy tries. When Harry doesn’t respond immediately Eggsy opens his eyes and fixes Harry with a curious look. “So I can return the favor.”

“You don’t have to.” Harry says.

“Yeah. I don’t have to do anything, but I want to.” Eggsy says. 

This is what Harry’s been waiting for; it’s the opportunity to see Eggsy again with the boys permission, not because of a briefing form slipped under his nose by Merlin at 8:00 am. He flinches at the idea of using the boy’s affection as a weakness, but the information he eventually gets will save a lot of lives and so it’s a necessary downfall of his occupation. The next time Eggsy sees him, it’ll be for the same sort of company, and Hary’ll run the long con until Eggsy’s given up everything he knows about Dean Anthony Baker.


	14. Focus on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cockwarming - for osmsauce/queenofosm

There are times when Eggsy’s filled with some hostile desire to prove himself. It’s not often. He’s an Unwin; confidence is a natural staple of his personality, but damn if Harry Hart doesn’t make him wanna change just a _little_ bit so that he can prove what he’s worth.  

This is what he’s thinking when Harry says, “Are you listening, Eggsy?”

No. He isn’t fucking listening because Harry’s leaned up against the counter in a cashmere button down and there isn’t anybody alive more handsome than he is. Eggsy’s on the cusp of feeling unworthy and he can’t focus. He has to ask, “Where’d you get the sweater?”

Harry just blinks at him. Eggsy’s been a bit cheeky lately and this interaction is just one piled on the many others in which he didn’t listen and got himself in trouble because of it.

“I can’t listen to you when you’re dressed like that.” Eggsy follows up quickly.

“Dressed like what?”

“You know. In clothes.”

Harry sighs and budges up off of the counter. “It was Merlin’s. I needed one a few months ago and he gave it to me as a gift. The man has plenty.”

“Yeah?” Eggsy asks. “You like wearing Merlin’s clothes round me, do you?”

There’s a moment where Harry forgets he’s upset with Eggsy enough to smirk at him, but then he thinks about why their conversation has even diverted to this and he straightens back out, nudging his glasses up his nose. “You know, I’ll _thank you_ to listen to me when I talk, Eggsy, or I won’t be humoring these little conversations of yours.”

“Okay, okay.” Eggsy says, hands up. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m listenin’.”

For the rest of the day Eggsy begs himself to behave and then promptly promises thereafter to be on his best behavior. He’ll listen closely to what Harry has to say because Harry really does say some important things. But then an hour later, long after he’s washed up and fingerfucked himself to painting the shower wall, he realizes he can’t follow that advice. Not when Harry’s dressed semi-casually in another man’s Cardigan.

“Tell me,” Harry asks him as they’re sitting across the desk from one another in his study. He hasn’t removed the cardigan, though he’s fingering the buttons of it open as he talks. “Is there a particular reason you’ve been so restive lately?”

“Dunno.” And then a second later because he has to know, “If I asked to sit on your cock, would you let me?” He has no idea why he wants to do this, but what he does know is that he’s hot for Harry’s cock in a way that’s making him tingle and it’s distracting. He also knows that if Harry answers that question in the affirmative he’s gonna jump over this desk and shove so far down on Harry’s dick it aches.

“How can I get you focused?” Harry breathes out. He doesn’t look aggravated, just curious.

Eggsy’s watching him. He thinks about what it’ll feel like when Harry finally decides to stop being a tit and says he can come over and sit on him. That stretch that’s worth more than a thousand fingers because it’s Harry’s body pressed up tightly in his and that just does things to his psyche.

Harry eventually does give in. He slides his seat away from his desk and undoes his trousers, raising his hips just enough to slip them and his pants over the growing bulge of his cock. He gets himself comfortable in the seat again before patting his lap and inviting Eggsy over. It looks filthy, Harry sitting casually back in his office chair with his dick sprung free and that cashmere cardi undone.

Eggsy leaves the towel he’s been sitting in. It’s just another piece of cloth he can’t be fucked to deal with, and he goes over to Harry in some sort of daze. It’s a fatal combination of nerves and hormones that are making him jittery and Harry has to gently remind him to grab some lube so that he doesn’t hurt himself.

Eggsy’s only thinking about how he’s actually gonna sit on Harry’s cock.

Harry’s office chair is big and comfortable, leather, more than large enough to accommodate Eggsy’s knees. He fishes Harry’s lube out of the top drawer and hands it back to him, and the man quickly collects some in his palm, smearing it over his length. He bypasses handing it back to Eggsy and just tosses it on his desk with a short smile and then he pats his lap again and says, “Alright, darling. Daddy’s ready for you.”

“Oh-kay,” Eggsy huffs.

“Climb up backwards,” Harry continues, guiding Eggsy to turn around so that he’s staring out at the empty chair he’d just been sitting in.

“I can’t get on this seat backwards.” Eggsy tells him.

“Then you can’t climb on my cock, can you?”

Eggsy’s never reached such a high level of determination before in his life. He looks over his shoulder and puts one leg up first. His foot slips through the hole created by the arm rest but his knee fits comfortably in the space between Harry’s thigh and the edge of the seat.

“Steady yourself on the desk.” Harry says helpfully.

Eggsy reaches out and puts both hands on the desk, and then he gently lifts his second leg and plants his remaining knee on the other side.

“I can’t see what I’m doing.” Eggsy says quietly. “Can you help me?”

Harry grips his waist and slides the chair forward a little bit so that it’s closer to the desk and Eggsy’s body is more vertically aligned. From there it’s easy for Eggsy to wiggle his way down until Harry’s length is pressing between his cheeks.

“Go ahead.” Harry tells him, rubbing the hinge of his knee.

He sinks down incredibly slowly, if only because he’s sensitive from getting off in the shower. It’s still a religious experience and Eggsy whines quietly as Harry fills him, fingers pressing into the laminated wood of Harry’s work desk. Harry rubs Eggsy’s bare shoulders and Eggsy could get used to feeling those callused fingertips on his skin.

He doesn’t stop sinking his way down to the base, not until his thighs are kissing Harry’s thighs in some shameless display of affection. Eggsy moans quietly because it feels good in a different way. His cock is soft and rested between his legs but this is the sort of good that Eggsy feels in his pores and carries around with him the next day. Eggsy looks over his shoulder and says, “alright?”

“Perfect.” Harry whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah.” Eggsy says. He adjusts just a little bit more so that some of the pressure is taken off of his knees, then he leans forward onto the desk and settles in. Harry rubs his back and kisses the parts of his spine he can reach, and then they just sit there together in the quiet of the office.

Eggsy drifts in and out of some space between earth and heaven, chin rested on his arm on the desk and eyes drooping lazily. He never wants to climb out of this seat. He’d stay here all day if he could, propped up on Harry’s cock and dozing off on his desk. Harry talks to him a bit, continues some story about a man in Russia stealing his wallet and then offering him spaghetti in apology.

Eggsy must fall asleep. It might be minutes or some indecent time later before he blinks himself awake, and the sun has set, the automatic lights in the office have come on, his legs have gone completely numb. More then that, Harry’s nudging up into his body in soft little thrusts, jogging his chest against the desk top. Eggsy groans softly, stretching cat-like over the space he’s got in front of him, mindful of the laptop that’s a bit further away from his face.

Then Eggsy pushes back just a little bit. He loves the idea of Harry using him and he can’t really decipher why, but he wants Harry to fuck him while he’s soft, come in him and then take him to bed so that they can go to sleep.

He should’ve _stayed_ asleep, woken up to an arse full. Another day, then.

Eggsy encourages Harry by squeezing down on his cock, tightening the space he’s pushing into until the man curses loudly behind him. There’s nothing better than hearing Harry lose it because his voice is so deep and his body vibrates with it. It’s encouraging and it means the world through that Eggsy knows it’s his body pushing Harry into a state. When the man grips him tightly enough to bruise, decides it’s not enough and instead winds arms around him and tugs him to sitting upwards so that he can thrust up into him roughly, Eggsy’s dangerously close to losing his mind. He holds onto the armrests so that he doesn’t get pushed off and then he lets Harry fuck up into him as hard as he’d like, chair creaking beneath the weight of the two of them.

He wants to open his mouth and say something naughty, but that would ruin the world he’s created for himself in which Harry just uses his arse and then carries on with his day.

Harry is the one to say something, just soft terms of endearment in his ear that usually slip free when he’s about to blow. Eggsy uses the arm rests for leverage, gives it to Harry good and rolls his hips to help the man out. There’s a moment where Harry actually might break skin with the way he flexes his fingers against Eggsy’s body, and then Eggsy hears his voice break and feels his hips stutter.

“Yes, Harry.” Eggsy hisses. “Fuckin’ shit.”

Harry comes gorgeously and Eggsy just sits there and listens to it, back aching a bit from sitting stiffly.

“Sometimes I can’t handle you.” Harry huffs when he’s come down a bit.

“I can’t handle that sweater.” Eggsy huffs back.

Harry just leans back in the chair for a second and then grips both of Eggsy’s cheeks, kneading them apart as Eggsy tries to keep his balance.

“Lean forward on the desk again so that I can help you out.” Harry says. Eggsy groans and then leans as far forward as he can so that Harry can help maneuver his legs off of the chair. It’s a struggle and the second his first foot hits the ground his leg gives out and he collapses against the desk.

“Fuck,” He giggles. “Just drop me why don’t you.”

“Oh god,” Harry says. He carefully removes Eggsy’s other leg from where it’s tangled in the chair and then stands up so that he can pick Eggsy up off of the floor. Eggsy doesn’t wanna move just yet and so he tugs on Harry until the man gets the picture and climbs onto the floor with him.

“Sorry for not listening.” Eggsy apologizes.

Harry opens one of the flaps of the cardigan and encourages Eggsy to burrow in. It’s like a small fort, really. If Eggsy just tucks himself in close he’s surrounded by Harry’s (and Merlin’s, he supposes) smell. Harry rubs his back and just holds him for a minute before saying, “Should we talk about what just happened?”

“If you thought my focus was bad an hour ago, try and talk to me now.” Eggsy warns him.

“I’d rather not.” Harry laughs. “One day we’ll get you to listen, but I suppose if this is the outcome of your transgressions, you’re not likely to straighten out your behavior anytime soon.”

“Well you’re not wrong.” Eggsy tells him, kissing his clothed chest and then covering his mouth with his palm and rolling on top of him. Hopefully that’ll pass on the message that he’s tired and that he’d rather just sleep for now, wake up in a few hours and then ride Harry’s dick a little more. Until then, he’s got no focus and he’s out of commission, much like every other day that Harry’s in his semi-casuals.

He’ll have to send Merlin a thank you note (and buy a lot more cardigans). 


	15. Even if By Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dry humping - for queenofosm / osmsauce

Eggsy knows Harry’s upset even though he doesn’t do upset like a normal person. He knows because they’ve come from Kingsman, barely made it through the door when Harry grabs him by the back of his coat and forces him to turn around. Eggsy’s not shocked by it because admittedly, the entire mission was shit and so he’s a bit frustrated himself, but he deals with it in other ways than this. 

“Harry,” Eggsy starts, trying to reach around him to shove the door closed before they can be caught being reckless. Harry tugs him forward at the same time and Eggsy falls against his chest, so they stumble back into it together, forcing it shut. 

There’s no use talking about whatever it is that’s got Harry up in arms. It’s better to just let him work out his frustrations. Harry secures a grip on Eggsy’s thighs and then encourages him to jump up and wrap his legs around Harry’s waist. He holds him up easily and turns them so that Eggsy’s back is to the door, body trapped between Harry and hard, dark oak.

“C’mon, then…” Eggsy huffs, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and grinding against him. He knows what Harry needs - just something to take the edge off. That doesn’t mean they can’t both get something out of this. 

Harry grips him tightly and moves with him so that their clothed cocks are rubbing against one another’s, still placatingly soft but stiffening quickly in some hot display of arousal. Eggsy grunts as the movement jogs him into the door handle and he thinks quite proudly that Harry’s going to leave marks on him this time (even if by accident). 

Harry makes a few frustrated noises in the back of his throat. It’s hard to get it all together. They’re still in their coats, suits, shoes, everything is in the way, and Eggsy’s already getting hot enough to sweat. Harry keeps adjusting him, using Eggsy’s thighs to move him so that they’re rubbed up against one another whenever Harry thrusts upwards. 

But it’s alright because once they catch on one another - once their stiff cocks drag together beneath the two layers of clothing, it still feels every bit as good as he’s been waiting for. It reminds him dully of the time that Harry’d used his silk pocket square to jerk him off, and he’d come so hard that his chest hurt. 

Harry’s rough because he’s frustrated. He grinds up against Eggsy like he’s got something to prove, then he kisses Eggsy and groans against his lips, ‘fuck’. 

It’s not enough and that frustrates Harry too, so he pulls them both away from the door and takes Eggsy to the floor in some too quick to process maneuver, spreading his legs impossibly wide and then grinding directly into the crevice they make. 

Eggsy’s eyes roll back into his head and he says, ‘O-oh, _fuck_ , Haz,” and then Harry has them lined up so that their clothed cocks are pressing, side by side and then right against one another, but it still gets him sensitive until he can feel that tingle crawling up his back. Harry’s never climbed on him like this, and he’s never been so mad with it that he’s hurting Eggsy’s thighs keeping them open for him, but it’s hot. 

“I’m gonna come, Harry,” Eggsy cries. “I’m gonna fucking come.” 

That hits a nerve in Harry and he bends over Eggsy’s body, lets Eggsy’s thighs spring closed on his waist so that he can hump him good and proper, and when Harry tucks his face against Eggsy’s neck and breathes on his skin, wetting it with how hard he’s panting out Eggsy comes in his pants, wetting the small space beneath his zipper. 

It’s only a few more seconds before Harry tenses up and makes a choked off sound, hips gyrating against Eggsy’s body so that he can finish rubbing it out until it’s too much. Eggsy just breathes for a minute and his chest is heaving beneath these ten million god damn layers of clothing - but he’s got Harry Hart falling against his chest and holding him closely.  

“You gonna be alright?” Eggsy asks, just breathing. He feels disgusting. He’s sweating like a pig but so is Harry. They really are partners in everything, apparently.

“No.” Harry says. “But tomorrow I will be. Just help me make it until then.”

Eggsy leans down and kisses Harry, rubbing some of his hair back so that it’ll right itself. In about ten minutes they’ll be feverish, hot with laying in their coats and their come, but until then Eggsy’s alright just holding Harry to him. Harry hums happily and lets him.


	16. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merhartwin - Double Pen - for insanereddragon

Merlin’s pushed Eggsy before.

During training, he’d make the boy run an extra mile because it strengthened the leg muscles. He’d make Eggsy cook breakfast for the remaining candidates because it taught him compliance in the face of authority. He’d make Eggsy read three novels a month to create a learned and educated young man.

But for all that he’s made Eggsy do, there’s always been some underlying method that justified the order. It was always just short of what Eggsy could handle (or more actively, what he’d want to do), and it was all ordered under the presumption that he would need these things if he took Lancelot’s position, so he never worried that Eggsy would misunderstand the _whys_ of the tasks.

This feels different, because Merlin isn’t pushing to get Eggsy a position in one of the world’s most elite secret agencies. He’s pushing because Eggsy’d come to him and Harry just the day before, and asked them if they would.

To take initiative and ask for what he wants is a skill that Merlin never got to touch on (though he would’ve loved to teach it), and so he’s shocked to have Eggsy asking him for something so intimately desired.

He’s especially nervous because the day it happens, Eggsy being especially impish, and Merlin doesn’t make it a habit of bringing orders to bed. Needs must and all that. Eggsy’s been sitting on Harry’s cock for close to five minutes, riding him backwards with his hands comfortably rested on the man’s thighs. He’s sweating, poor thing, smiling up at Merlin with that same determined look Merlin’s grown to love flashing on his face. It’s the same look he gets before he’s about to do something reckless, and Merlin can’t allow that when he’s about to humor the boy with some form of sexual awakening.

“Eggsy,” Merlin says. “Would you mind _not_ doing that?”

“What has he done?” Harry croaks, looking around Eggsy’s body to try and see how severe Merlin looks. Eggsy distracts him by pulling almost all the way off and sinking back down roughly, wheezing because of the effort, but smiling again when Harry moans out brokenly and just goes back to holding his hips and thrusting up into him lazily.

“Nothing yet. That’s a forewarning for whatever he thinks he’s about to do.” Merlin says.

“Sorry.” Eggsy laughs. “Just got a bit bored waiting for Merlin to fuck me already.”

“I’ve already fucked you,” Merlin says, but he’s squeezing lube into his palm anyway and then tossing the bottle aside and stroking his cock a few good times.

“Fingers don’t count,” Eggsy breathes, straightening upright and watching Merlin curiously. Merlin doesn’t respond and so eventually Eggsy’s eyes flutter closed, legs putting in work to keep him bouncing healthily on Harry’s hips. “Just come over here and fuck me, jesus christ…”

The boy’s greedy. He can’t just take one cock anymore, not when Harry’s been spoiling him by letting him choose how he gets fucked every other day.

“ _Anything you like…_ ” Has long since turned into “ _Anything you like, however you want it, whenever you want it…_ ” and Eggsy’s taking full advantage of Harry’s sexual generosity to push his body in beautiful ways. Merlin’s alright with it, really, but he’s always done the pushing in this relationship and so there’s an adjustment period with Eggsy calling the shots.

“On your back,” Merlin orders, crawling his way across the mattress and right between Harry’s legs. Eggsy’s kneeling there staring at him, daring him to do what he’d begged of them earlier, and so Merlin nudges at Eggsy’s shoulder until he starts to bend back. Harry helps him down until they’re back to chest, and then Harry turns and kisses his jaw.

“Hey Haz,” Eggsy breathes out. “I think Merlin’s gonna fuck me.”

Merlin laughs at that, taking Eggsy’s shins and lifting them. He trusts Harry to keep the boy’s upper body balanced and is pleased to see Harry wind both arms around Eggsy’s waist to hold him still. He’s already fingered Eggsy open more times tonight than he has in the last month, starting and stopping so that Eggsy could play with other toys and then give them all up in favor of ‘Harry, Harry, Harry’. If the boy’s body isn’t ready at this point to take both of their cocks, it’ll never happen.

“I’m ready,” Eggsy breathes, rolling his hips. With his legs raised and spread like they are, Merlin can see everything, including the way his body’s stretched and pink around Harry’s gorgeous length. “ _Merlin_ , please, c’mon…”

Merlin thinks humorously that now Eggsy’s pushing him and in a way he’s glad for it, because when he crawls his way up against where Eggsy’s already spread open and then holds his cock so that he can press it up above Harry’s, this is probably the best kind of personal growth he’s ever had the wonder of experiencing.

“You think you’re ready?” Merlin asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I am.” Eggsy pants. He’s trembling, body held taut over Harry’s waiting for Merlin to do something. Harry goes breathless and helps Merlin hold Eggsy’s legs. It’s easier to just prop them up on his shoulders, so Merlin does.

Then he pushes forward and the head of his cock catches on Eggsy’s body and they all go still. Harry exhales and his fingers dig angry red marks right into the underside of Eggsy’s thighs. Eggsy clenches and sits up just a bit with his mouth wide open as if it’s already a bit too much, and he says, “A-ah, shit.”

Merlin’s thoughts exactly. This isn’t going to be easy on any of them - they’ll be lucky if he makes it in at this rate. He holds tightly to the base of his cock when he starts to push again, and there’s a tight, tight pressure that he’s caught between - the warm walls of Eggsy’s body and the stiff line of Harry’s cock under his, textured with the veins beneath his skin.

“Christ…” Harry breathes.

Merlin means to respond, but something happens. Either Eggsy relaxes or Merlin loses control. He hits a point in Eggsy’s body where it becomes incredibly easy to move, and he slides in to the hilt like Eggsy’s body is made of butter.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Eggsy cries, falling back limply against Harry’s body and letting his head hit the pillow beneath the man’s shoulder. His eyes are squinched shut and his calves are pulling Merlin in with how tense they’ve gone.

Eggsy’s body is just as warm around him as it always is, but it’s tight in a way that feels dangerous, and when Eggsy reaches between his legs to squeeze his cock Merlin understands that they’re all a little in over their heads.

But people don’t have sex to deny themselves pleasure. He doesn’t like for Eggsy to block himself off, so he reaches out and covers the boy’s hand with his own and encourages him to stroke himself.

“Don’t Merlin, I’ll come. I swear I will. _Shit,_ ” Eggsy says.

“I rather thought that was the point,” Harry grunts, nudging up into Eggsy’s body and making the boy clench around him. Merlin can’t stand it, he turns his head and breathes heavily into the boy’s calf. Then he follows the rhythm of Harry’s soft little thrust and uses it to push himself in deeper, almost too deep. Eggsy howls and then comes all over his chest, dripping liquid over his Merlin-issued muscles.

Eggsy’s body spasms so wildly around Harry’s and Merlin’s cocks that Harry follows suit, making a soft noise and tilting his head into Eggsy’s neck. His grip tightens on Eggsy’s thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

It’s probably the filthiest thing Merlin’s ever seen, and it’s especially good when he pulls out and Eggsy just rolls over, off of Harry’s chest, face down onto the mattress and kicking Merlin in the ribs as he goes. He crawls up on his hands and knees and bows his spine so that his arse is in the air, and then he looks over his shoulder with glassy eyes and says, “C’mon Merlin. All yours, mate.”

Merlin laughs softly and crawls over a bit so that he can follow through with the invitation. He slides up behind Eggsy and slips right back into his body, fucking into him like he’d wanted to do earlier, but which Eggsy had managed to prevent him from doing. Harry watches the two of them with a heaving chest and Eggsy eats up the attention, rolling his hips so that they meet Merlin’s thrusts and push him as deep as he can go.

All things considered, it’s a good night for all of them.

Merlin comes with his balls flush against Eggsy’s reddening arse, hands around his hips to hold him still. Eggsy just sighs happily because he’s likely still thinking about Merlin and Harry fucking him together. It’s something he’s wanted to do for a while, apparently. He’s too quiet to be doing anything other than mulling over the both of them.

Merlin pulls out and wipes his hand along his softening cock, and then he’s just got a hand covered with his own spunk.

“Yuck,” Eggsy laughs, looking over his shoulder.

So Merlin slaps his arse with his filthy hand and the sound it makes is delicious. Eggsy laughs even harder and rocks forward on his knees before falling sideways and scooching his way back over to Harry. The man is waiting for him with open arms. 

The thing about a boy like Eggsy is that he’s been pushed his entire life. He’s always been told what to do, who to be, how to behave. As Merlin crawls up on the empty side of Eggsy’s body and lays down beside him, he wonders if there has to be a direct objective for someone to push themselves. If there has to be a _why_  or a justification before they take leaps and bounds out of curiosity. Eggsy certainly deems it alright.

He dozes off thinking about it, arm drooped lazily over Eggsy’s hip. 

 


	17. Love Letters

I’ve been having terrible writer’s block. I asked [@queenofosm](https://tmblr.co/msp1FlPDJrcK0AGCRBXtiPg) to send me a prompt so that I can at least write _something._  This was supposed to be a drabble - I was supposed to keep it to 100 words, but I’m happy that it dribbled into 500 words because it means that not all is totally lost.

Prompt: “I don’t know what you want from me.”

 

-

 

Harry’s gloved hand feels so much warmer than Eggsy assumes it should feel, especially when it’s wrapped tightly around his fist with a layer of leather keeping their skin from touching. Harry’s helping him hold up his umbrella against the torrential downpour that London’s decided to bless them with, but the rain is too heavy and Harry’s hardly under the umbrella himself.

Eggsy takes a second to marvel at how firm Harry’s grip is, and how nice it feels to have someone like Harry standing with him, helping him keep dry at the expense of soaking himself. Eggsy looks up at him and sees a stray piece of hair falling forward, plastering itself to the sticky skin of Harry’s forehead. He observes all of this before he realizes that Harry shouldn’t be standing with him at all.

“Christ.” He whispers before he can filter it. He’s not sure Harry’s heard it over the sound of the rain and wind, but the man can read lips and so maybe he knows how stunned Eggsy is by his presence. He moves his hand a bit closer to Harry’s body so that he can share the umbrella. “Harry, what the fuck? You’re supposed to be in Bosnia.”

“Eggsy,” Harry says. He clears his throat and then seems to scooch a bit closer. He looks nervous, and his voice isn’t so clear when he says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Then why are you here?” Eggsy asks, not unkindly. He’s curious. The only time Harry diverts from a mission is for very important things, something Eggsy would never classify himself as. Atleast, not until Harry leans in and kisses him softly, lips barely touching but it’s definitely a purposeful action. Eggsy freezes, hand tightening around the handle of the umbrella, and he knows that Harry can feel it beneath his own palm. 

“That letter,” Harry breathes when he pulls back, just a bit, and by ‘that letter’ he means the one that Eggsy’d left on his desk, the one he shouldn’t have seen until a week from now when he got back from Bosnia, by which time Eggsy would’ve been booted to France for the month. “I read it, and I know that you leave for France next week and I would’ve missed you for a month before I was given a chance to do this.”

“Oh, shit.” Eggsy whimpers. “Fuck. You weren’t supposed to fucking come back until next week. Why the fuck are you here right now?” It’s a natural response to being caught doing something embarrassing, like leaving love letters on your mentor’s desk and then presuming that everything’ll be alright afterwards. It’s just as well. If Harry hadn’t come back to collect it, Eggsy would’ve gone and snatched it back - he probably would’ve thrown it in the bin.

Harry’s drifting closer still. He says, “I don’t know what you want from me, Eggsy, and I certainly don’t know why you’ve chosen me to provide it for you, but I intend to follow through in whichever way you ask for as long as you ask it of me.”

“Oh.” Eggsy says. This wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. At all.

Harry lowers their hands together and Eggsy flinches at the expectation of cold rainwater hitting his face. It’s not as bad as he thinks it’ll be, likely muted by the pressure of Harry’s arm snaking it’s way around his waist and tugging him forward until they’re not just lips on lips, wet kisses made even sloppier by water dripping between them and off of the bridges of their noses, but chest to chest and every bit as happily soaked right through. 

 


	18. Good Vibes

Warning(s): remote control vibrator, semi-public playing, D/s tones.

Some short about what happens when Eggsy and Harry get a remote controlled vibe. 

 

-

 

When Kingsman’s annual meetings coincide with one’s anniversary every year, one adjusts.

Perhaps it’s not the most appropriate adjustment. What Harry suggests they do is well over the boundary of what they’ve ever discussed doing. He’s never talked with Eggsy about taking their play semi-public until he realizes that unless they do, they’ll never spend an actual anniversary the way they want to (which is in bed, eating, sleeping and fucking each other half to death).

He’d mentioned the idea in passing so that he could give Eggsy the opportunity to decline without any form of obligation.

He hadn’t expected Eggsy to light up and say, “What, you mean like a remote control vibrator?” and then disappear for an hour, only to return home with a small, purple bag that he said was “for work tomorrow” and which he had promised, “nobody would know anything about.”

Harry believed the boy because Eggsy has formidable self control, chiseled down by years of just being with Harry and letting the man take control. Eggsy’s more than capable of doing what he’s told, and a step further, when he’s the one setting the order, it’s near impossible to get him to break it.

So Harry doesn’t feel bad for sitting at a table amongst his peers, rolling a long, black, remote control pen across the top of his fingers, and he doesn’t feel bad that Eggsy’s watching the movement almost manically, waiting for Harry to do something with it. The other agents are none the wiser, and without this heinous meeting, Eggsy and Harry wouldn’t have ever even considered this an option.

Harry’s seated at the head of the table. He’s Arthur for the time being, but everyone’s eyes are on Merlin because it doesn’t matter who Arthur is, Kingsman doesn’t run without Merlin at the head of the organization. Eggsy’s the only one who isn’t being attentive, and who’s instead looking at the object between Harry’s fingers, staring for minutes at a time.

It’s likely because Harry hasn’t pressed it yet and they’re already an hour in. He’s got nerves rolling through his chest and they’re completely unfounded because he knows, without a doubt, that Eggsy’s a good boy. Even if the button is pressed, Eggsy won’t give them away. Everyone will still be just as clueless to their activities.

So while everyone’s attention is away from the both of them Harry gives it a go. They’d tested the thing before leaving the house and so Harry knows how to adjust almost every function the toy has. He’s mindful anyway as he leans back casually in his seat and presses down on the butt of the pen.

Other than Eggsy’s eyelids fluttering briefly and his eyes shifting from the pen back to Merlin, there are no tells that Harry’s just turned on the vibrator. The boy does shift slightly, something that no other agent would think anything of, and then he settles in and folds his hands over his lap. Harry owes Eggsy a bit more of a challenge than this, but it’s best to start off slow so that if Eggsy decides he wants to stop now that the vibe’s been turned on, he has time and space to do it.

“Lancelot,” Merlin grouses. “You were given the Stinton case earlier this year. First time for using the contacts instead of the glasses. Give us some feedback on those.”

Roxy is sitting to the left hand side of Eggsy, and she sits up straight and tells Merlin, “Actually, Gawain and I were discussing that just last week. He had some really valid points for consideration.”

Eggsy startles upon hearing his codename, looking beside him to try and catch up to what’s just been said. He clears his throat with a quick ‘yeah’, so he hasn’t been listening properly, Harry thinks. It’s nice to know that even the lightest setting has knocked off a small part of the boy’s composure. Perhaps he’s drifting off and focusing more on the vibrations in his body than the sound of Merlin’s voice. For that, Harry slides his finger up the side of the pen to adjust the intensity to something a little more noticeable, so that the boy doesn’t have to work as hard to feel it.

Eggsy still maintains his composure, though his eyes widen before he says, “I - uhm… I think there are some, some… issues there, yeah.”

“Care to elaborate?” Merlin asks.

“I mean.” Eggsy says. He swallows hard and shifts in his seat a bit before clearing his throat. The movements are natural, and to anyone but Harry it looks like Eggsy’s preparing himself to go into a long spiel about said contacts, but it’s much more likely that Eggsy’s subconsciously adjusting for comfort, and to prevent anyone around him from hearing or seeing anything that might indicate what’s actually going on. “If it’s too hot, the things’ll melt on your eyeballs, innit? I mean, dealin’ with explosives, that’s a r-risk.” He clears his throat again. “And if you lose the fucking things, you don’t have time to find ‘em again, not when someone’s on your arse, trying to put a bullet through it.”

“Very well noted.” Merlin says. 

“I quite liked the idea of using them for certain cases,” Percival contributes, and then the conversation shifts to another part of the table. Eggsy looks over at Harry for only a second with a soft smirk on his face. Harry reckons that Eggsy’s proud of himself for speaking so clearly. There’s nothing better than Eggsy feeling good about something he’s done well, and Harry’ll give him that any day or the week, any time of day. But what’s happening now still isn’t as much of a challenge as Eggsy deserves. Keeping the setting low isn’t what Eggsy’d asked for. He’s looking for the opportunity to show Harry what a good boy he can be even when he’s stretched thin and struggling.

Better yet, _especially_ when he’s stretched thin and struggling.

Harry slides the pad of his thumb up the side of the pen a second time, adjusting the vibration speed by an additional two levels. This time the effect is noticeable. Eggsy makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and leans forward onto the table, elbow kissing the wood. Roxy turns around to look at him with a shocked expression, and Harry’s finger is ready to turn it back down, but then Eggsy puts a hand up and says, “ate something bad earlier. Sorry. I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” Roxy whispers to him. Merlin goes on talking. Harry just watches.

Eggsy waves her off and nods his head back at Merlin. The boy is stiff. He’s much closer to the table, sitting up with his shoulders tense and after a minute his eyes lose a bit of their intensity. Merlin drones on with Percival about the contacts and Eggsy tries to focus for a second, eyes bouncing back and forth between the both of them, but then he starts drifting off into his own thoughts. Harry can always _always_ tell when this is the case, and it’s more clear when the boy focuses his eyes on the table instead of on Merlin, or Harry, or any other agent he’s sitting around and just looks.

A part of Harry wonders if it was wise to do this here, and another part of him thinks this is the best idea they’ve ever had. Eggsy’s eyelids are closing more slowly every time he blinks, and limb by limb he relaxes back into his seat until he’s in a mimic of his earlier position.

Good boy, Harry thinks, and he looks over at Merlin to make sure that everything’s alright, that the conversation is still carrying itself. He’s gone and missed a large portion of this meeting’s content already.

The meeting goes on for another hour, during which time Harry casually plays with the settings on the pen, and Eggsy’s body responds, but only in ways that Harry’s been trained to look for when they play. For instance, at some point Eggsy’s hands start trembling and he has to look down at his lap instead of at the table, wind his fingers together and hold them still so that nobody’ll notice. At another point Eggsy sniffs and shakes his head as if clearing something from his brain, but it’s only after Harry turns the setting on the vibrator as low as it’ll go, until he knows the toy is just a thrumming sort of pressure inside the boy’s body.

When Merlin finally calls the meeting to an end, Eggsy’s forehead has a light sheen on it. His cheeks are pink. His eyes are unfocused. Harry stands up and tells Merlin, “I’m keeping Eggsy for a moment. I’m afraid there’s something I need to speak personally with him about.”

None of the other agents complain or even inquire, though anybody looking at Eggsy would know something was wrong. It’s highly unlikely that they’d guess what, because who in their right mind would surmise that Harry’s spent the entire meeting wrecking the boy via a remotely controlled toy up his arse.

Merlin nods and collects his clipboard, and then watches as the remaining agents gather their things. Roxy looks like she’d like to stay, because Eggsy truly does look out of his wits and the boy had told her just earlier that he’d had a stomach ache (which, if this were the case, he’d look dangerously close to keeling over from), but Harry tells her that he’ll talk with Eggsy and get it sorted out, and that if Eggsy still isn’t feeling well he’ll grant him clearance to go home. This pacifies her enough that she stands up and leaves alongside Merlin. Harry follows them to the doors and waits for them to leave before closing and locking them.

“We’re supposed to stay all day.” Harry says to the otherwise silent room. “But I’m wondering if maybe that’s not wise?”

“I can stay.” Eggsy says quietly. He pushes himself away from the table and gets up out of his chair, and Harry knows what’s coming because it’s the same thing that always comes after Harry’s turned the toys off. Eggsy slides right up into Harry’s space and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the remote control pen and slipping it back into Harry’s hands, then he grabs Harry by the waist and walks them backwards until they’re against the table and Eggsy can hop back up onto it, pulling Harry into the V between his thighs.

“Turn it back on.” Eggsy begs.

Harry has about ten seconds to decide if they should do this here. This isn’t what they’d agreed on and Charles is downstairs and fuck knows where the other agents are, but he can’t send Eggsy back to work like he is now.

Hell, he can’t go back to his own office like he is now.

“Can I trust you to be quiet?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Eggsy breathes. “I can be quiet.”

Harry turns the toy back on and hikes the vibration setting up to a moderate thrumming, then he grabs Eggsy’s thighs and gently tugs him forward so that the boy’s compressed cock is pressed between his and Harry’s clothed bodies. It would be easy for Eggsy to come like this, humping the man between his legs until he’s spilling in his nice, pressed suit bottoms, but the boy doesn’t have any intention of ending this in the conference room, not when they’ve got hours left to go before they’re home and in bed. Eggsy winds an arm around Harry’s neck and puts the other behind himself to keep his back from falling to the table when he starts rolling his hips.

The movements are lazy and reserved, and Eggsy’s just watching Harry’s face as he does it, no doubt concentrating on the muted feeling of the toy in his body. Harry leans in and kisses him softly, and then thinks that he needs more then that and licks out at his lips. Eggsy parts them immediately and tilts his head, sighing around Harry’s tongue as the man tastes him, just takes his mouth apart in the limited amount of time they’ve given themselves before they have to pack it in.

“Sometimes I can hardly believe you, Eggsy.” Harry tells him after they’ve gone breathless and ruffled. He kisses him between words and Eggsy slows the roll of his hips until he’s sitting still again on the table. “I’ve never met another person with such beautiful composure.”

Eggsy tries not to preen, but it’s so obvious that he loves it whenever Harry compliments him or tells him he’s done a good job. His cheeks go pink and he smiles, sitting up straight and then pulling Harry back in for another kiss. The more Harry thinks about it, the harder it is to believe what Eggsy’s just let him do, and what Eggsy’s going to let him continue to do until they get home early tomorrow morning, exhausted and delirious, but still completely, _completely_ happy.


	19. Friendly Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> size queen eggsy, finger sucking, non-penetrative sex

Note(s): For the anonymous prompter that asked ‘do you have any headcanons for size queen eggsy?’ I’ve put it behind a cut because even though it’s non-penetrative, there’s still quite a bit of dick in here.

-

Eggsy’s always liked his men grandiose, but perhaps Harry’s a bit… too magnificent.

The first time Eggsy actually gets to see the man’s cock, he has to zip his mouth. If he says what he’s thinking, all that’s going to come out is screaming that’ll likely wake the neighbors _and_ scare Harry right the fuck off.

“Jesus Christ.” Eggsy whispers. He can’t help if he starts smiling because, honestly, he’s staring down what is likely the biggest working piece in London.

“Can’t manage?” Harry asks him.

Eggsy doesn’t say anything to that, just pulls Harry in by his hips and gets to licking, then let’s the man’s cock sit heavy on his plump lower lip until he can’t take the weight and wraps his lips around the size of him.

Stranger thoughts have come to his head than _I hope he chokes me on it_ , but it’s still particularly startling when he realizes that he wants Harry to take his size and do something with it. He wants Harry to fuck his throat raw, and then he wants Harry to lay him out and use him. It’s been ages since Eggsy’s had the opportunity to fuck someone this big.

The second time Harry graces Eggsy with his presence is even better, because he actually gets Eggsy on his back with his legs spread as wide as they’ll go, and he’s in between them, pumping his cock in these lazy strokes that are taunting the both of them.

Eggsy’s eyes roll back into his head at the thought of Harry dripping on him. He wants to feel it, wants for Harry to want him badly enough to come on him.

“Please, Harry, come on my face,” Eggsy begs quietly. He’s so out of it. Harry’s nowhere near his face, but he starts to pump himself faster, fist spoiling the head of his dick and neglecting the remaining length. Eggsy reaches out and helps, covering the base while Harry just fucks his fist until he’s spurting all over Eggsy’s chest.

Not to be ignorant of Eggsy’s requests, Harry soon after runs his fingers through the mess he’s made and then guides them to Eggsy’s face, gently running his fingertips the length of the boy’s jaw. Eggsy opens his mouth and turns his head, whining until Harry indulges and slips his fingers into it.

He fucks Eggsy’s mouth that way, watching as the boy rubs one out in an effort to find a bit of relief, all the while sucking on Harry’s fingers.

When Eggsy finally suggests they try and fuck, it doesn’t work because no matter how much Eggsy likes the idea of being shafted by a dick bigger than his arm, his body can’t cope.

He’d opted for his hands and knees to make it easier on both of them, has lube dripping down his thighs and coating his entire backside, and he’s royally pissed that his body has fucked it all up and told him ‘no’.

But Harry doesn’t wait. He grabs either one of Eggsy’s cheeks in his hands and spreads them, sliding his cock into the space between so that it fits comfortably, and then presses Eggsy’s cheeks back together around himself and starts to ride. Eggsy lets out an involuntary groan and drops his head onto his arms.

He pushes back as best he can because if he can get Harry to pull his cock out of the cavern the man’s created for himself, he can get Harry to catch on the rim of his hole when he pushes back in. But it’s too short of a time before Harry gets into his desperate rutting and bears down on Eggsy’s back, pushing him close enough to the mattress that his heavy cock drags along the fibers of the blanket. The touch is soft against the head and it’s so minute that it makes Eggsy twitch.

He imagines what Harry looks like back there, sliding his length between Eggsy’s cheeks, giving long rolls of his hips because his cock’s too big to give those short, clipped thrusts that Eggsy’s used to. He imagines Harry sliding into his body, filling him to the point of breaking him wide open, touching him in places that Eggsy’ll never be able to reach on his own.

Eggsy reaches behind himself and grabs Harry’s thigh, panting, “ _Shiiiit_ ,” before he comes all over his bedding.

Harry laughs and bends over Eggsy’s back until he’s kissing the boy’s neck, and then he follows, cock twitching between the crack of Eggsy’s arse. Eggsy can feel the warmth at the base of his spine, dribbling down the line of his body and following Harry’s movements.

It’s still a good fuck, and he thinks to himself that soon he’ll be able to take it.

Until then, he prides himself with knowing that the _idea_  of a cock that big is more than enough.


	20. Mrs. Samantha Unwin (Dilf!Eggsy 1)

“Daddy. Can I have this one?”

“No, babes. You’ve got three at home already.”

Harry’s ears perk up - brain short wiring for a second at the sound of Eggsy’s voice. He stands up too quickly, smacking the back of his head on the shelving above him because he’d been sorting books and stacking them neatly onto their shelves waiting for Eggsy to come in.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Eggsy squeaks, tugging the little one after him so that they can check if he’s alright. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Harry says. He physically stops himself from rubbing his head, but he can’t help adjusting his glasses where they’ve been knocked forward onto his nose. “Hello, Samantha.”

“Hi, Harry.” The little girl says. She reaches around Eggsy and sticks out her hand so that Harry can shake it like he always does. Her hair has been done up in a bun today, something that Harry’s sure Eggsy is proud of (since he’d complained about having trouble with her hair before). “We didn’t come in yesterday or the day before coz I was sick with the flu, I think.”

“Oh?” Harry asks. “How harrowing.”

Eggsy smiles between them and wiggles his nose. “Yeah. Thought I’d grab her a book since she was such a champ about it. Never complained once, did you?”

“Nope.” She says.

“Then why don’t we go and have a look together for a book that might suit you?” Harry asks, smiling back at Eggsy. He nods his head in the direction of the kids shelves and Samantha takes his hand, holding on like a link between him and Eggsy as they go. She starts to swing her arms after a second, likely with the expectation that Harry and Eggsy will hoist her up off of the ground and let her dangle.  

“Did you miss me when I wasn’t in?” Samantha asks instead, looking up at Harry expectantly. When Harry peers down at her is when he realizes how much like Eggsy she actually looks. Her personality is similar, too, from what he’s seen these last weeks. She’s inquisitive and good-natured, but very quick to anger if somebody touches things she believes to be rightfully hers. Harry learned this the hard way, cleaning up an old juice container beside her and throwing it in the bin when she _wasn’t finished with that, thank you sir._

“Of course I did.” Harry answers easily. It’s true. His days as a book shop owner are much longer when Eggsy and Samantha don’t drop in.

“Daddy missed you. He talks abo - mmph.”

“Samantha.” Eggsy cuts in quickly, covering her mouth with his free hand. She stops and stomps her foot, looking up at him indignantly. He fixes her with a firm look and says, “Why don’t we… talk about something else, babe. Harry doesn’t wanna hear all that.”

“Yes he does!” Samantha breathes out angrily when she gets Eggsy’s hand off of her mouth. “Coz he missed you too! So I’m tellin’ him how much you missed him first.”

Harry goes cold with anxiety. Not that they ever plan it, but children have a way of laying all of your laundry out on the table, and Harry’s blatant crush on Eggsy is one of those things that he’d rather leave alone for fear of it spiraling into some unsalvageable proposition.

Eggsy looks up at him with a quiet sigh and says slowly, “I’m sorry, Harry. She’s got a mind of her own, this one.”

 _So you didn’t miss me?_ Harry wants to ask, jovial, like he wouldn’t mind the answer.

But Harry’s not that kind of man, and he doesn’t have confidence enough to survive an answer that doesn’t include _‘yes, I did miss you, Harry.’_  

Eggsy just tugs on Samantha’s hand and she releases Harry’s grip, following her father as he leads the way to the children’s section.

-

Harry mulls over Samantha’s admission the next few days. Each day her and Eggsy stop into the store together around lunch time and read a book or two, and Eggsy buys the books anyway because he wants to support Harry’s business. It gets on well enough without the pocket change that Eggsy throws his way, but he appreciates the man’s company all the same.

There’s a day when they don’t show up alone, and Eggsy tugs another young man in by the hand, dragging him behind himself.

Harry tries not to look. He’s at the register sticking price tags on some of the discounted pieces, and the most he can do is peer up from beneath his glasses and see where they’re holding hands and how Samantha is leading the both of them right through the store, past Harry and his merchandise without even a second glance.

No handshake, either, which is a pity.

He feels bitter, and then he feels a bit sad, and then he shuts it all down and goes back to tagging his books.

Eventually, Eggsy comes up to the front counter alone and asks, “Harry! Do you have a book called _‘Get Better Soon, Daisy_ ’?”

“I’ll… I’ll have to check.” Harry says. He keeps his eyes on the books in front of him and determines that if he looks up at Eggsy, he’ll likely feel like shit which is something he doesn’t need today. Eggsy’s a handsome young man. He wouldn’t be interested in the company of someone old and lonely with just a book shop to show for his life’s accomplishments like Harry. It gets him down, but he copes with it, and this is just another notch in the arrow. He quickly busies himself with searching for the book.

“Thanks.” Eggsy says. He leans up on the counter and then wiggles his foot behind himself, clearly thinking of something. After a second he says, “And, ehm…”

“I have it.” Harry says. “I’ll show you where it is.”

Eggsy goes quiet at being cut off and when Harry looks up, the boy is frowning at him. Harry’s cheeks go warm and he nudges his glasses up out of habit more so than anything else. Eggsy watches the movement closely, and then he shakes his head and says, “Alright, lead the way then, boss.”

The book is where Samantha and the surprise guest have already made themselves comfortable. Harry issues a quiet, ‘excuse me’ as he steps around them and rummages along the shelves. He fingers the spines of the books one by one until he reads ‘Get Better Soon, Daisy’ and then he snags it off of the shelf and hands it over his shoulder to Eggsy.

“Oh, I can take it.” The man that’s sitting by his feet says.

“No _I_ can take it!” Samantha laughs, reaching up and flexing her fingers. Harry deposits the book in them. The mystery man says, ‘oh no you don’t’ and reaches out, snagging Samantha around her waist and pulling her into his lap with a playful growl as she giggles and tries to twist her way out of it.

“Oi, knock it off you two. It’s a book store not a playground.” Eggsy says firmly.

The man, and Harry wishes he wouldn’t have seen it, but the man just smiles at Eggsy lasciviously, and then winks. Eggsy has sense enough to look bashful, but Harry’s not interested in mapping the boy’s responses to suitors that aren’t him. There’s no need. He’ll just drive himself jealous with it.

Harry nods his head and with another quiet ‘excuse me’, sees himself back up to the front.

Eggsy and guest don’t leave for a good hour. He chooses to ignore Eggsy’s short glances his way, because it means he has to admit that he’s still looking longingly over in their corner, waiting for Samantha to atleast say hello. It’s pathetic. He’s griping and moaning over some disillusion that never had much basis in the first place.

Eggsy was never going to want him.

So Harry spends that entire hour with the same company he’s known for years: his books. He flips through them as he labels them and bids them an early adieu. Then he stacks them into piles so large that he almost misses the small, four year old fingers flexing against his counter.

“Are you looking for something, Samantha?” He asks.

“I know I didn’t say hi, but do you have a lollipop up here or no?”

Harry smiles despite feeling aggrieved. He reaches beneath the counter and produces a pink lollipop, handing it over to her and he sees her fingers search the handle of it out before she grips it and he hears her tiny little voice saying, ‘thanks Harry’. He assumes she walks away, but he’s got product so high he can’t see over it without stepping that way and deliberately looking.

Not a second later there’s another presence blocked from view. He can hear their feet on the hardwood flooring.

“Can I help you?” Harry says, peering around the books so that he can see who it is.

“Yeah.” Eggsy says. He’s leans fully on the counter this time, one elbow up on the oak of it so that he can rest his head in the palm of his hand. He is devastating, hair the perfect length for styling and eyes as bright and expressive as anything. “I thought you might be able to answer somethin’ for me.”

“Another book?” Harry asks.

“Not quite.” Eggsy admits. “I was just wonderin’ if…” He trails off and licks his lips. Harry gives him a second. He can’t think of how Eggsy means to finish the sentence considering that asking for a date is out of the question. Still, Eggsy surprises him by finishing, “If I weren’t with that bloke, would you ever ask me out?”

This is exactly why he prefers books, Harry thinks. Humans are so difficult to deal with. They say things that are hard to respond to and most times he's just left red-faced and scatter-brained because of it. He scrambles for a response that won’t give away how gutted he is about Eggsy’s company, or the teasing question he's been faced with. He also doesn’t want to sound as desperate as he actually is to just be done with all of this. He certainly doesn’t want for Eggsy to know that he misses Samantha and him terribly whenever they’re not in. It’ll just hammer in the idea that Harry doesn’t have anyone else to miss, really.  

He struggles to answer.

“Just tell me yes or no. Those days we don’t come in, do you miss us too?”

Harry steels his emotions and decides to just go for it. He can do this. At least once.

“Yes.” Harry says. “I miss you terribly, Eggsy. And if I were a stronger man, I would’ve asked you out the first day I saw you, waltzing around on my patio with that happy little girl in your arms.”

Eggsy smiles. “She is happy. And she likes you. And I like you, and if you like _me_ , then maybe we should… you know… just get together sometimes. Outside of the shop.”

“You’re not with…” Harry says as he gestures over Eggsy’s shoulder.

“Nah. That’s Sam’s mum’s mate. Cool bloke. Sammy loves him.”

“Oh.” Harry says. He rubs his nose to stave off the incoming red of his cheeks. He knows Eggsy can see it anyway when the man reaches over the counter and takes his hand, tugging it down away from his face. Then he uses his other hand and winds it around Harry’s neck, tugging him in until they’re kissing. Harry latches onto to him immediately, like this is some hallucinated byproduct of his distress, but then Eggsy licks out at his lips and tilts his head and Harry thinks he wouldn’t care either way if it was.

This is the best feeling in the entire world.

 


	21. Wuthering Heights (Dilf!Eggsy 2)

Harry’d like to think that he’s an excellent driver. He’s even more attentive when he’s got Eggsy and Samantha in the car, and no amount of prodding from the passenger seat can convince him to go faster than he already is, though Eggsy makes an excellent point about ruining the flow of traffic with his caution.

“You don’t have to go so slow, Haz.” Eggsy whispers.

“Yeah.” Samantha chimes in. “Dad goes real fast. Sometimes he even drives backwards.”

Harry turns to Eggsy and tries not to look too surprised, but he can feel the way his eyebrows creep up his forehead. “ _Backwards_?”

“Alright, little miss Unwin. Please stop snitching on dad, yeah?” Eggsy laughs nervously over his shoulder. “I only did it once. In a parking lot.”

“He was running away from the police.” Samantha tacks on, and Harry slams his foot on the break.

“Oh my god.” Eggsy coughs out.

There’s the sound of a horn blaring outside and Harry realizes that he’s almost caused an accident by slamming on the brakes like that. He apologizes even if only Eggsy and Samantha can hear it, and then presses calmly back on the gas and says, “You were running from the police?”

“No. I wasn’t.” Eggsy explains. “It was a friend. We were… fuckin’ about. He’s a fucking constable.”

“They were just fuckin’ about.” Samantha reiterates.

Eggsy slides down in his seat and covers his face in his hands, clearly exhausted by his efforts to keep Samantha in check. Harry sympathizes, and softly admonishes, “Samantha, perhaps that sort of language should be reserved for… special events.”

“Okay. What kind of events? Coz I like that word.”

“Uhm. Well, when something shocking happens, for instance. I highly doubt someone would penalize you for being surprised.”

Eggsy eventually uncovers his face and smiles over his shoulder, reaching back and nudging Samantha’s leg, and in the rearview Harry can see her smiling back at him.

“Hey, why don’t you sing that song for Harry? That one you was listening to last week.”

Harry turns a corner so slowly that he can feel the irritation of the driver behind him. He should probably speed up just a little bit. “Which song is it?” He asks so that he can distract them from telling him about his driving again.

“Kate Bush. She loves the chorus but she can’t figure out the lyrics,” Eggsy says quietly. Then he starts to nod his head and hum the tune, hoping to coax the girl into singing. It only takes a second for her to start wiggling in her seat and humming along, and then she sings, “hethee, it’s me… soooo hoooo, lemme hmmm hmmm. Wait. Dad, you sing it.”

Eggsy smiles wickedly and mouths ‘should I’ before turning forward alarmingly fast. The car goes quiet for a second, and Harry’s so focused on the road that he completely misses Eggsy’s performance preparation. Being the supremely sensational boy that he is, he suddenly belts out, “ _Out on the wiley, windy moors… we’d roll and fall in green.You had a temper like my jealousy…_ ”

“Eggsy…” Harry warns. He can’t drive with this sort of distraction, and the little minion in back egging her father on with her tiny little cheers.

“ _Bad dreams in the night. They told me I was going to lose the fight…_ ”

“Oh god,” Harry whispers under his breath. 

With all of the bravado Harry would expect to see out of Kate Bush, Eggsy sings his way up to the chorus, fingers running through his hair as he dramatically reenacts a performance he seems _very_ familiar with. He’s tossing about in his seat, kicking his foot up onto the dashboard. Harry realizes he’s not wearing shoes when he takes his eyes off of the road for just a second and looks over.

“ _Heathcliff, It’s me, Cathy. Come hooome, I’m so cooold let me in your windooow._ ” Samantha sits in the backseat and sings along almost just as loudly.

It’s likely the most endearing duet he’s ever heard in his entire life.

How he’d managed to attract Eggsy for long enough that the boy would do this unabashedly in his passenger seat is still a bit of a mystery, but Harry smiles all the same and prays that for the rest of his life, he’s invited to every one of Eggsy’s and Samantha’s impromptu performances.

It’s the last thought he has before his car bumps into the car in front of his. He slams on the brakes too late, and Eggsy stops mid word and grunts. Then the car is silent.

That is, until Samantha says, “Fuck.”

-

Samantha likes Harry’s flat (luckily), and Harry thinks that it’s because Mr. Pickle is waiting for them all to walk in the door. She seems unconcerned about anything other than the dog, screaming and stomping her feet all the way over to him before dropping onto the floor beside him and telling him all of her feelings.

Eggsy looks over at Harry guiltily and says, “Sorry. She’s always wanted a dog.”

“It’s a very big responsibility.” Harry soothes, smiling at him. Eggsy doesn’t stop looking at him, and so Harry continues, “It’s alright Eggsy. Really. There was very minor damage. It’ll be taken care of easily.”

“But I _am_ sorry, Harry. I should’ve listened to you.”

It doesn’t matter. It’s already come and gone, so Harry’s not dwelling on it, but Eggsy’s clearly upset. Harry acts before he thinks and takes Eggsy’s hand because it seems like the right thing to do in this situation. It makes him nervous, since he’s not nearly as good at physical affection as Eggsy is. But it seems as if Eggsy’s nerves have made him a bit reserved, and so Harry willingly steps up to the plate. “Truly, it’s nothing. Why don’t we go and make ourselves some lunch? And then perhaps we could watch a movie.”

Eggsy sighs and rubs the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb, then he says, “Okay.”

They leave Samantha and Mr. Pickle together so that they can make lunch without the fuss of both little ones underfoot. Even doing this, Samantha peeks her head into the kitchen at some point and says, “do you have any cake here?” Mr. Pickle has followed after her slowly because he’s old and has arthritis. He sits in the doorway beside her feet.

“I don’t.” Harry answers her. “But perhaps we could find the ingredients and pull one from somewhere.”

Eggsy smiles over at him and nudges him in the ribs. He’s washing dishes because apparently he can cook a total of five things, and none of the ingredients in Harry’s fridge are appropriate for them. It’s just as well - Harry can only cook three things, and so together they’ve got a meal for every day of the week.

Harry makes Alfredo from a jar and Samantha loves it. She tucks some away in a napkin. Without the booster seat, she barely clears the table, so it’s not Harry’s fault that he misses her nicking some of the food from her plate and dropping it to the dog.

“Oi, Sam!” Eggsy yelps. “Stop feeding the dog!”

“Okay.” She says, wholly unconcerned. She picks her fork back up and tries to balance some noodles on it long enough to feed herself, but it’s too hard. So Eggsy cuts her Fettuccine into squares and then gets her a spoon. She still ends up missing her mouth, but atleast her whole plate is clean before she asks for Harry’s plate too. That and she’s stopped _purposely_ feeding the dog.

Harry thinks of how handsome Eggsy is as he wipes Samantha’s cheeks afterwards, and then again as he licks his thumb and cleans some harder to get spots. She pushes his hands away from her, but he just growls playfully and tugs her to the edge of her seat, kissing her on her forehead before he goes back to scrubbing her face.

“I don’t like that spit, dad.” She mumbles.

“I know, babes. But you’re face is dirty and daddy has to clean it up.”

“Harry doesn’t mind I have stuff on my face.”

“But _I_ mind.” Eggsy responds. “You don’t complain when aunt Daisy does it. Only when dad does it.”

“Yeah, coz you’ve got boy spit,” She says, as if it’s the most obvious reason in the world.

“And what’s wrong with boy spit?” Eggsy asks, but he’s smiling and balling the napkin up. He puts it on his empty plate and then pats Samantha’s knee so that she can slide out of her chair. She’s such a little person. She completely ignores her father’s question and says, ‘ _come on, Mr. Pickle. We’ve got stuff to do_.’ which Harry refuses to look further into since the activity she picks is likely to be one that gets her in trouble.

“I can do the dishes, Eggsy. You did them before.” Harry says.

“No, no. We can do ‘em together. I owe you since I… bunged up your bumper.”

“You didn’t. It’s barely scratched.”

“It’s completely fuckin’ dented… and hangin’ off your car.”

That’s true. Harry’s car looks a little bit assaulted. Still, it’s Harry’s fault for taking his eyes off of the road. He won’t vilify Eggsy for having fun. “We can do them together.”

The problem quickly becomes that Eggsy runs his water entirely too hot. For some reason, unless the skin is melting off of your hands, the dishes aren’t being cleaned. Nevermind that you can put a bit of bleach in the water and let them soak first. Eggsy prefers to scrub them to death and burn his hands in the process.

“Eggsy, this water is entirely too hot.”

“It’s not.” Eggsy says. “You have to kill the germs.”

“Yes, the germs, not your skin. You can do that with bleach.”

“Well there’s no harm killing the germs twice then, yeah?”

Harry’s eyes go wide and then he turns back to the sink. It’s double sided, and he’s on the ‘rinse and dry’ side, and he’s just watching the steam rising from the water. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous that Eggsy’s burning himself, but he can’t stand to see the boy’s hands submerged in near-boiling water, and so he reaches in and pulls them out. “Please just let it cool down a little.”

“Harry, it’s _fine_.” Eggsy insists. “Look.” He drags Harry’s hands under the water with his and it burns a bit. “Just let ‘em warm up for a second. It doesn’t feel like anything. My hands aren’t burnt, they’re just a bit red.”

Harry’s horrible habit of going red in his cheeks doesn’t fail. He has to turn away because he’s just been an enormous twat. Of course Eggsy would know if the water were too hot for his skin. The man has probably washed dishes before.

“You just have an imagination on you.” Eggsy consoles him, playing with his fingers under the water to calm him down. “Too many books, Harry.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Harry apologizes.

Eggsy laughs quietly and leans sideways, kissing Harry’s cheek. “Geeky boyfriend.”

“Oh, I am?” Harry crows, hackles going up just a bit.

“Ooor… handsome, culinary genius boyfriend,” Eggsy amends, leaning just a bit more and kissing the side of Harry’s mouth. “Clearly I like it either way.”

Harry smiles down at the filled sink. He knows he looks daft, because when he smiles he tends to look a bit like a child - eyes crinkling behind his glasses and mouth going higher up on his face then it ought to go, but it brings a smile out of Eggsy too, who kisses him properly and laughs against his lips. And then -

“ _AHHH! DADDY!_ ”

Eggsy flinches and pulls away from Harry with a look of horror on his face. Mr. Pickles is barking and Samantha is shrieking her head off. For all the noise, Harry’s so relieved to run into the living room and find a spider crawling it’s way down from the ceiling, between Samantha and the door. Eggsy also visibly relaxes when he sees that she’s not in mortal danger, even going so far as to lean on the door frame with his hand on his chest.

“Jesus, Sam.” Eggsy breathes. “Just a spider.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Samantha yells.

“Oh god,” Eggsy laughs. Harry just sheepishly clears his throat.

“I, uhm. I can get it.” Harry says, and Eggsy just shakes his head and thwacks Harry’s bum on his way to collect Samantha from the corner she’s crawled into.

Harry takes it outside in the palm of his hand, because he’s never minded spiders. When he goes back in, Samantha’s looking at him like he’s just saved her life. She clings to him for the rest of the night, not even budging for movie time when Eggsy says he wants to cuddle, too. 

It shouldn’t be adorable when she tells him, quite frankly, that he’ll have to settle for Mr. Pickle. 

But it is, almost exceedingly, and so when Eggsy catches him smiling after she’s said it and asks, ‘oh, you think it’s cute, do you’, he doesn’t even bother trying to deny it. 


	22. Blanket Coverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Harry's scared of the dark' prompt fill

There aren’t many things that Harry Hart gets nervous about. He owes it to years of elite physical and mental training, which have prepared him for situations that no _sane_ man would ever have to worry about.

But he’ll admit to having a few hiccoughs in his psyche.

He can’t explain it to anyone in a way that’d make sense. Atleast, in a way that’d make sense coming out of a grown man’s mouth. But he knows that it’s near impossible for people to _not_ see it as an issue when it’s such a frequent component of his job as a Kingsman agent.

He thinks about that now, as he’s wiping his sweaty palms against his pristinely ironed trousers, trying to relax into the containment unit he’s been shoved into. The space is very small and enclosed, something he’s not too worried about, but it’s also dark, and therein lies the problem.

Merlin must know, because he says, “Someone’s coming for you, Galahad. Just… relax.”

“Galahad,” Eggsy’s voice comes over Harry’s communicator, and Harry flinches just a little. He’s told himself many times over that he can’t be this way - he can’t be worried about a thing like the dark when there are much scarier elements out there, but he feels the discomfort down to his toes anyway. He’s tried to reconcile his childhood fears with his adult understanding of the way the world works, and it hasn’t taken. So here he is, trapped in a space that light can’t get to, and he’s promptly losing his shit.

“ _Please_ answer me, Harry.” Eggsy begs when Harry doesn’t say anything.

“I’m here.” Harry says. His throat is dry.

“I’m coming for you, alright?”

“Alright, Eggsy.” Harry whispers. He keeps his eyes closed and presses out around him to test his space. His arms can barely move. He goes back to nervously rubbing his trousers.

For almost an hour, Harry thinks about a lot of things. None of them real or even remotely possible, but all of them equally terrifying. To a degree, being stuck in his thoughts is a horrifying place to be. He humors the idea that maybe that’s why he’s so scared of dark spaces, until someone knocks on the outer shell of his unit and he almost jumps out of his skin.

“Eggsy?” He tries, with no effort to hide how terrified he actually is.

“I’m here. Hold on. I’m gonna get you out, yeah?”

Harry wishes he would. He can hear Eggsy, but he can’t see him. He can’t do much more then press his forehead against the wall of the unit and try and “…breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth…” Merlin tells him quietly. “God, we’ve gotta do something about this. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Harry admits.

Because he does know. He feels the embarrassment of leaning on his protege because he’s _scared of the dark_ , and he’s ashamed to admit that his anxiety is besting him via fears that usually only plague children.

“I’m sorry, Eggsy.” Harry mumbles. He means it to be a quiet admission, but his voice echoes in the small chamber he’s in, and Eggsy hears it anyway.

“Don’t.” Eggsy says. “We all got stuff we don’t like. It’s just… yours is a bit harder to avoid, that’s all.”

“It’s inappropriate for an agent to be scared of the dark.” Harry says.

“Yeah,” Eggsy huffs. There’s a loud banging noise and then Harry hears a creaking from directly beside his head. With any luck, he’ll be out of here soon, and he can speak with Eggsy about this face to face. For now, he’s too busy sucking the entire box’s worth of oxygen into his lungs. “But atleast you know that, and that’s usually the first step.”

There’s a loud groaning and then Harry’s blessedly doused in light, because Eggsy’s gone and detached the wall of the unit and tugged it away.

Harry can breathe again. He steps sideways out of the unit and right into Eggsy’s arms anyway, pulling him closely and smelling his cologne, nosing at his neck to just make sure that he’s real, and not some hallucination brought on by panic. Eggsy allows it, and only Merlin crows at them over their communicators that they should be “ _leaving, Gawain. Fuckin’ go. We don’t have time for this._ ”

“Yeah. We have to go.” Eggsy tells them both quietly, but he turns into Harry too and noses him right back. Harry breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Lets.” Harry says. It comes out much less confident than he means.

 


End file.
